


6 Feet Beneath the Ice

by thelandofnothing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post Season 7, Post-Canon, Sibling Love, War, if gendrya isnt endgame i will flip a table, maybe just myself, maybe not a table, off a cliff, okay it sounds like everyone is going to die but im terrible and i want my happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 63,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelandofnothing/pseuds/thelandofnothing
Summary: With the Long Night at their doorstep, the allied forces of Jon and Daenerys must fight the Night King in order to stop eternal winter. Siblings and friends reunite while truths are discovered. And some may have to learn whether or not it is wise to love during a war.





	1. The Lady of Winterfell I

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I should do a serious multiple chapter story that's post canon because who doesn't like thinking how all the lovely reunions will play out in season 8. (I for one, cannot wait that long). Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Love you all my darlings xxxx 
> 
> P/S: As I don't personally ship Sansa with anyone at the moment, her and Sandor are not romantically tied in this plot. 
> 
> P/s: I will remind you guys in later chapters but after 4 POVs, there will be a month or two time gap just to get the story flowing a bit quicker.
> 
> Title inspired by King Krule's 2013 album; 6 Feet Beneath the Moon

**Sansa**

 

 

 

 

“The King in North! He has returned!” a voice shouted from the grounds of Winterfell.

Sansa could hear loud cheers, she could tell Arya did as well. The two sisters didn’t dare to move from their place up on the ramparts.

“He’s going to be so excited that you’re back home.” Sansa whispered, the chill of the winter breeze nearly stealing her words.

“I think he’s going to be too preoccupied with the war to come. But… I guess we will be a pack once again. Broken, but still a pack.”

Sansa sighed and looked down, the years of a cruel world had frozen her lady heart. But what the years had done to her younger sister would always remain a twisted mystery to her. For now, the dead were coming and they must stick together. They had already lost too many members of their pack. Mother, father, Robb, Rickon… They had all been avenged, one king, one lord and one bastard at a time.

“Winter is coming.” Sansa recited, her father’s head above the chopping block was a lingering memory.

“Winter is here.” Arya corrected and they both looked at each other in silent understanding.

But the horns that sounded in the distance and the shouts of “King!” meant so was their brother.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa saw the dark curls of her half-brother as soon as the two sisters had made their way to the yard. There was a small party of people surrounding him and most were on horseback.

“Get the others food and ale.” Jon ordered at a stable boy, “The journey was long.”

The boy bowed his head and reached for the King’s reins as Jon slid off his horse.

“Yes, your Grace,” he hesitated, “I’ll fetch your sister your Grace.” Started the man.

“There is no need,” the chilling voice of the Lady of Winterfell sounded between the men.

Jon managed to look up to his half-sister in frightened awe.

“I see you brought a dragon to den full of wolves.” Sansa noted as the silver haired Dragon Queen, her eyes of purple wondered to the bleak walls.

“Lady Stark,” Daenerys acknowledged the red head as she slipped from her silver mare, dusting her delicate fur lined dress, “I have heard many tales of you. Thank you for allowing me to share the warmth of your home.”

“It is an honour, your Grace. You saved my brother’s life, Winterfell welcomes you with open arms.”

Sansa detected the coldness in her voice by herself. Something she was not accustomed to realising after the execution of Petyr Baelish. But she was nothing but a Northern woman, the Lady of the North, a wolf in every right to her brother and sister.

“I am grateful,” the Queen smiled and went to grasp the cold hands of Sansa, “I hope we become friends as much as we are allies.

“In the North, we hope for many such things.”

Sansa did not feel warmth in the hands of Daenerys Targaryen, nor did she in her words. But there was a flicker of sadness that longed in her eye. For they were only women, spare their talons and claws. She had heard stories of the Queen, how she was also sold to a man whom she was forced to marry. She was defiled, cheated and betrayed. And so, Sansa Stark opened her heart and let herself trust this Dragon Queen because she knew her brother did.

“Jon?” a voice called from behind her.

“Oh, Arya!” Jon yelled back and ran to receive his sister in his arms.

The two intertwined, holding each other. Sansa didn’t even feel the need to be jealous. When everyone had doubted Jon, Arya had been snarling at them, like the little she-wolf she was.

_She always will be._

“Come on you! We have a lot of catching up to do.” Jon smiled down at his sister who was nothing of the little girl he had left behind all those years ago.

Brother and sister walked side by side away across the yard.

“Milady.” Said a kind voice.

Davos Seaworth stood with his hands behind his back.

“Ser Davos, it is good to see you.” Sansa replied and the older man flushed in his winter cloak.

“As it is to see you milady.”

She smiled. Maybe for the first time in months.

“Aye, and this one here is Gendry Waters milady.” Davos motioned to a tall man with short cropped hair and dazzling blue eyes behind him.

“Baratheon milady, Gendry Baratheon. My father was King Robert Baratheon…”

“And your mother was not the Queen.” Sansa finished, with an understanding nod.

Gendry gave her a small smile, peering in a different direction; out across the yard

“Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a stubborn lad.” Davos interjected.

Sansa smiled and let herself be introduced to the other members of Jon and Daenerys’ party.

“Lady Sansa,” A familiar voice pierced through the chilled winter air. “It is good to see you fairing so well.”

Tyrion Lannister treaded through the snow, a rough beard covering his jaw, the scars from battles marked his weather worn face. She respected the half man for he was kind to her when they were both thrust into position neither wanted to be in.

“Lord Tyrion,” She replied with a sad smile, “I was once a summer child who did not know well enough. I thank you for your kindness, you are welcomed to my home with honour once again.”

Bowing lightly, he thanked her with his eyes, as solemn as they were. No doubt he heard about the tales of what had happened to her once she fled King’s Landing.

Daenerys introduced her to Missandei, to Grey Worm, to her Dothraki and Unsullied army who followed her because they believed in her. Dany had left the fight of the Iron Throne against Cersei Lannister to help the Northerners fight the Night King.

_This is what they mean by a queen._

But the Lady of Winterfell did not see the tall lone figure, leaning on a post, observing her from afar with his scared face hidden by a cloak.


	2. The Bastard Smith I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya reunite but not in the way they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe finally the reunion everyone's been waiting for! Thank you soooo much you my darlings for all the lovely comments and kudos! I love you all to the moon and back! Next POV will either be Jon or Arya! Keep updated xxxx

**Gendry**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Relief flooded his chest when he had saw her; hair tied in a knot behind her head. She was wearing breeches with a brown tunic. The sword swinging at her side he could recognise anywhere.

_Needle._

He had met Sansa Stark, the more elegant of the sisters but she was far colder than he imagined. Arya had described the red-haired lady to swoon over songs and knights and castles. Lady Stark looked fitting in her home, her hardened face the epitome of winter; cold and long but seemingly beautiful. Not as beautiful as Arya though. No one could match the wildness of the she-wolf Arya Stark.

“You know her.” Davos whispered, away from the prying ears of gathering parties.

“Who?” asked Gendry.

Davos chuckled, “Don’t be a fool lad,” He cleared his throat, “Arya Stark. Last night you said her name in your sleep. Jon heard it too.”

Gendry’s face went beet red. Jon fucking Snow? Her favourite brother? The one who had trusted him?

He was going to die in this winter wasteland and not by the hands of the dead.

“Seven hells.” Gendry cursed under his breath.

“Seven hells indeed.” Davos nodded, trying hard not to break down with hearty laughter.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The Great Hall boomed with the voices of Northern lords. The difference between Daenerys’ party and Jon’s was as clear as day. She sat up with him on the King’s table with Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister and Brandon Stark. Arya was no-where to be seen.

“You want some ale milord?” a serving girl said to him, her dress was _very_ lowcut.

She leaned in to stroke his hand, sitting on the table. He moved away.

“No.” he snapped, his brows furrowing.

“Suit yourself.” She gave him a disgusted look and stormed off, repeating the same scenario with a drunker man who happily took her in his lap.

“Should have fucking taken her.” A gruff voice called beside him.

Sandor fucking Clegane. The last person he wanted to see.

“All these cunts have the right idea, get with a woman before death kisses their asses,” He grunted, swigging a cup of ale down in one big gulp, “But you don’t have a problem, all the whores in Westeros would probably line outside your fucking door. Wouldn’t they?”

“Fuck off Clegane.” Gendry muttered.

“Ah, you still fancy _her_.” Sandor chuckled, “She’d probably gut you in half and carve out your fucking eyeballs.”

“I never fancied her.” Gendry said back, defensively.

Truly, his eyes were wondering all over the hall just to get one glimpse of her.

And she did come, striding in with her hands behind her back, Needle bouncing against her leg.

“Everyone!” Jon shouted, his booming voice echoed off the grey walls.

The lords stopped their chatter as the King in the North stood up, his great winter cloak billowing from behind him.

“As the day grows shorter so does the time. We are honoured to have Queen Daenerys and her dragons to help us through the Long Night.”

Gendry heard a snigger and the mention of “riding the dragon”. He rolled his eyes.

“With her kindness, her Grace has let us mine the dragonglass which we can use to kill the White Walkers,” Jon’s eyes met Gendry, “We now have a smith among our ranks.”

Soon everyone’s eyes turned to him, feeling like a living man amongst a horde of wights.

“This boy? A smith?” A man said from the back.

All the Northern men laughed but the sound stopped when Jon slammed his fist on the table.

“This _man_ went North of the Wall despite never seeing snow in his life! Without his courage, I would not be standing here today and Cersei wouldn’t have got her wight.”

The men started to talk amongst themselves. Someone slapped his back.  

“He ran fucking fast I’ll give him that.” The Hound added from Gendry’s side.

He looked up and caught Arya’s eyes which large like grey moons. Her eyebrows raised and her lips slightly parted. She looked like she was about to fall off her chair. He managed to fight down his mean urge to smirk, call her _milady_ and watch her get all flustered…

Everyone’s attention turned to her as she got up suddenly and ran out the hall.

But this isn’t how they were meant to meet. Not after all those years he thought she was dead. Not all the nights he thrashed himself awake, the fleeting memory of her tiny body in his arms dissolving each morning. No. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to meet her in a secluded place, throw his arms around her, laugh, cry. He wanted her.

“What the fuck was that?” Sandor whispered harshly but Gendry didn’t listen, instead he got up himself and marched to the door.

“Excuse me you Grace.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

He could hardly see her, trudging across the yard with her head low. His mind was screaming at him.

_What are you doing bastard?!_

He ran, faster than he did to get back to Eastwatch because he thought if he didn’t explain himself to her, he would die right then and there.

She ran all the way to the Godswood, not looking back even when he yelled her name. When he saw her stop, he stopped as well. His lungs gasping for air, every muscle in his body ached but the organ that pumped blood through his veins hurt the most.

“Arya…” he started, getting closer and closer.

All he could see was her back and her brown hair, knotted in a bun behind her head. How she had grown from the grubby little child everyone had mistaken for a grimy boy.

‘Arya…” he called again but he was cut off.

“Why?” she asked, not moving.

He fell to his knees in the snow, the freezing ice burnt his uncovered hands. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even know what she meant. He didn’t even know how to talk to her. His eyes felt wet. He was crying?

“Why?” she asked again turning around, her grey eyes flashing him with the pure rage of a northern wolf. She looked like she was cornering her prey, ready to tear his flesh apart.

But maybe he was wishing she was crying too. Because he hadn’t seen her in so long and he had thought she had passed on. He saw her moving closer, slowly. He barely heard her boots crunch the snow under them.

And then she bent down to meet his face, her eyes in line with his. And suddenly, both her hands were wrapped around his neck, her cheek brushing his ear. He lost his balance, sending them both rolling into the snow. It took him a moment to realise she was there, a living, breathing girl, wrapped once more in his arms. He threw his arms around her back and he felt her breath on his neck.

“Why did you leave me?” she whispered and her voice chilled his blood.

“Because I was a stupid bull-headed bastard boy.”

“And what are you now?” she asked, sliding away and looking him in the face.

“Your brother’s smith.” He chuckled.

She smiled at that and his heart filled with warmth.

 


	3. The King in the North I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon may have not seen his sister for many years, but he can tell what's she's thinking as well as her bastard smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Jon could be a bit brotherly here in this scene. Yeah poor Gendry is going to get a hounding for not telling Jon about Arya! Thank you so so so much for all the amazing, lovely comments. Kudos is much appreciated.

**Jon**

 

 

 

 

Jon could see them as they got up. He had watched them embrace and fall to the ground. The smith helped his sister up but she refused his hand and he was smiling. How had Arya not completely…

Even from the distance, Jon could hear the sound of Arya’s knuckle colliding with Gendry’s jaw and the loud, angry shouts that sounded afterwards.

Jon moved closer, eager to listen to the conversation between the two.

“What in Seven Hells was that for?” Jon heard Gendry shout as he nursed his most likely swollen face.

“It’s for leaving me stupid.” She hissed back, baring her teeth.

Suddenly she spun around, kicking Gendry’s legs from under him where she then straddled him, bringing a dagger from her boot up to his throat.

“And this is what is going to happen if you do it again.” She threatened, pressing the blade near his adam’s apple.

“Wouldn’t dream of it milady.” He replied.

Jon could see that Gendry wasn’t scared of the little she-wolf but oddly he seemed wary. He must have realised she wasn’t a girl anymore which made Jon seethe with anger. He had heard the smith say her name while he slept but Jon figured it was only because he himself had been saying it repetitively.

Before they got off each other, Jon tiptoed like a gossiping maid back to the Great Hall and back to the worried lords and his even more worried red-haired sister.

“What happened?” his sister hissed in his ear as he sat down again.

Daenerys looked at him with a confused face which he smiled at, assuring her everything was at rest.

“Nothing,” Jon said back but Sansa wasn’t convinced, “A reunion.”

“A reunion.” Repeated Sansa through her teeth.

“My lords! Please settle!” Jon said, trying to cease the talking of the hundred Northern men, crammed in the Great Hall.

“Ah, the lady and the bastard smith travelled together years ago. Give it a fucking break.” The Hound yelled.

Jon felt his sister shift uncomfortably, her gaze was set on the scarred man. Her lips drawn in a harsh, straight line.

“If you’re thinking of killing the poor boy, at least allow me the honour.” Jon whispered, hoping to stir a little happiness from his cold sister.

She shook her head at him, “Get on with it Jon, your Lords are waiting,” she huffed, “We can deal with our little sister and her bastard smith another time.”

He looked to Daenerys who gave him a pained look and then to Bran whose eyes were pinpointed on his, “Sansa’s right, time is a resource we lack.”

But his eyes were saying the very opposite.

_I need to tell you something._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

After a gruelling hour of trying to convince the lords nothing was going on between his sister and the smith before they casually walked back in together, Jon finally managed to formulate rations and plans.

“Gendry will tend to the forge and Lady Stark has already counted the food rations and the fodder for the horses. We seem to have enough until the Night King arrives. What we need is weapons and many of them.”

Jon didn’t even try getting Gendry’s attention, for the Baratheon bastard had eyes for only one other in the room. Luckily, she wasn’t staring back at him as she leant against a wall listening to Jon.

“Every man, woman and child needs to learn how to wield a sword! Winter is here my lords and death will come if we do not fight this war.”

The men cheered and clinked their tankards of ale together, all chanting; “the King in the North, the King in the North!”

Jon knew that Robb should be here, leading these men as a trueborn Stark rather than him, a lowly bastard with the name of Snow. But Robb had gone, he spoke through the Old Gods now. So did his mother, and their father and their brother.

_And I better not lose another single soul._

 

It was night by the time he went back to his chambers. He had caught Arya before, stopping her with arm, asking her about Gendry. And to his surprise, she had told him everything; from their first meeting to their final departure.

 

_“I asked him to smith for Robb, to be my family,” Arya had said, her eyes unusually downcast, “But then he went and joined the Brotherhood and left me.”_

_“He’s a good lad, I don’t mind him,” Jon smiled, ruffling the hair on her head, “Your bastard smith saved my life, I owe him my sister’s happiness.”_

_He winked and watched her face screw up._

_“What are you even implying Jon?” she hissed and he laughed._

_“If he’s not in love with you, then the dead aren’t coming till next winter.”_

_In the corner of his eye he may have seen Arya Stark blush._

 

When he entered his chambers, Daenerys was already under the furs. Her silver hair flowed, undone from its tight braids.

“Cold?” he chuckled, taking his boots off and putting them near the fire.

“A dragon is a cold-blooded creature, the cold does not bother me Jon.” She stifled a laugh and watch his smile disappear.

“What happened with your sister?” she asked as he stripped of his leathers, leaving him in a black tunic.

“A reunion.” He replied, not daring to look at her.

“That’s what you told your sister,” She said, sighing, “Do you not trust us?”

“I trust both of you,” he said with a snap, “I’m not bloody lying. They were travelling companions when I thought Arya to be dead. He saved my life like he saved hers. They haven’t seen each other for years.”

But the Queen was a dragon, her words were as curt as her fire.

“He loves her.” She said silently, not wanting him to erupt.

“Aye he does.” He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“And what are you going to do?” she asked, sitting up to place a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what I can do.” He muttered and turned to face her.

Her violet eyes flashed, her lips set in a sad smile.

“I know what his father did and I would kill the man that hurt you…” he took a deep breath, “But Gendry is not his father, he’s a bastard. Bastards usually don’t do the things their fathers did.”

“Are you saying you want to legitimise him?” Daenerys said, her breath hitched in her throat.

“I need to talk to him but I’m asking you. He doesn’t want the Iron Throne, Dany. He just wants the name.”

She sighed, brushing his hair with the back of her hand, “Talk to him then.”

Jon smiled.

“Now all we have to do is quake the rumours about those two before you name Gendry a Baratheon.” Daenerys laughed.

“I am not looking forward to that.”


	4. The She-Wolf I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya realises what her feelings really mean. But Jon and Gendry do not seem to be of much help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh, this is really fluffy and stupid atm but I swear to the Old Gods and the New that the plot will get thicker and more interesting and I have a lot planned for these two.
> 
> Thank you so much for the support on this fic. I love you guys so much.

 

**Arya**

 

 

 

 

 

 

She did not see him for a week after their meeting in the Godswood. Some stable boy had told her he had been working hard in the forge, making weapons out of dragonglass, hardly sleeping or eating. Jon had offered him a room in the keep but he hadn’t yet settled in it with the bed still made and the very few possessions he had brought were with him at the forge. She heard the serving girls talk about him and how Arya’s stomach had curled up in sensation she could not name. One more mention of his dreamy blue eyes and solid form and Arya would…

“How the fuck are you still alive?” the Hound called, standing at the far end of the rampart.

“I’m surprised that you’re still here.” She replied coldly, averting her gaze.

“The Gods still want me round it seems,” he slowly walked to Arya, “Am I still on that list of yours.”

She scoffed, “I usually take dead people off it.”

He scowled as she met his gaze, a sly smile formed on her lips. The Stark girl had changed, no longer a short little boy. Now she was a fully grown she-wolf.

“I think you find I’m still fucking here.” He hissed.

“Are you now?” she challenged and he moved away, looking over the yard.

“My sister said you were kind to her.” She started, tracing a finger up the scabbard that held Needle.

“You sister was a girl, and Joffrey got what came to him,” He grunted and watched her eyes trail over the yard, to the forge, “That was quite a show you put on for those Northern cunts.”

The smile on her face suddenly warmed, no longer the smirk of a sadistic killer.

“You got them talking, that’s for sure.” He said, shifting on his feet when she did not reply, “He loves you, you know that right?”

Her eyes closed to feel the winter winds lap at her face, “Gendry doesn’t love me.”

Sandor snorted, rolling his eyes, “You know what that blue-eyed bastard did when a girl came over with her tits hanging all out?” he hesitated when she didn’t move, “He looked the over way and said no. And when you came through that fucking door, he didn’t look at anything else the whole time.”

“We haven’t seen each other in years.” She started but rolled her eyes hearing him snort again.

“A man doesn’t look at a girl he’s friends with like that.”

“Are you saying he wants to fuck me Clegane?” she hissed, her large eyes glaring at him.

“That and bloody marry you, that’s what I’m fucking saying,” he roared back at her, not minding his voice, “You’re a lady now, fully grown. He’s not looking at a scrawny little boy anymore, he’s looking at a woman.”

Arya felt her eyes start to well with tears. She never cried, never, never, never.

“He always knew I was a girl.” She whispered under breath, shakily.

“What was that?” the Hound questioned her.

There was no doubt he admired the Stark girls, no matter how much of a pain in the ass one of them was. But seeing Arya Stark was something different.

_She’s confused._

“Nothing. I need to go.”

And she did.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

She went all the way to the doors of the Winterfell forge even though she didn’t know how she got there. There was a lot of noise coming from inside; the clanking of a hammer on steel, Gendry’s voice and another that was strangely familiar. They were shouting but she struggled to make out the words.

She pressed an ear to the door, hoping to hear something out of the conversation inside but she couldn’t decipher a single word.

So, she knocked. Twice, lightly with the tips of her knuckles.

The noise from inside died and the door only opened a fraction. Jon’s face peeked out, the scar on his face was prominent even in the fleeting rays of twilight. His dark eyebrows were raised and she gulped, feeling as though she intruded on something important. Jon was already stressed as it was, he didn’t need his little sister getting in between his work.

“What do you want Arya?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

“Arya?” she heard Gendry call, appearing behind Jon.

He looked flustered in a way the heat from the forge couldn’t cause. His brows were knotted and he held his hammer too tight. He seemed too tense, like someone had told him bad news

“I was just leaving.” She lied, turning on her heel.

She walked off, even though Gendry called her name again and again. But neither of them followed. When she had looked over her shoulder, the forge doors were closed once more.

 _Stupid boys_.

She stopped walking, the words of her brother and of the Hound rang in her ears.

_He loves you._

How could he love her? He should be finding himself a nice girl to settle down with, one that could give him sons and daughters alike, warm his bed after a day’s work at the forge. But she had not forgotten the threat of war, the one that seemed to loom over every man’s shoulders and make them weak at the knees. Winter may have already come but death was bringing its winds with it. No one would be safe and everyone had to fight.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

She trudged through the snow to the Godswood, further inside than where Gendry and her had embraced in the snow. She walked right inside until she saw the heart tree and her brother in his chair by the edge of the pool.

“Hello Bran.” She greeted her brother but he didn’t look up.

“Your mind is a mess Arya Stark.” He noted.

She had started to become accustomed to his visions and wise words, ones that should not be coming out of a boy who had hardly seen half the world. He had told them all that it was not Brandon Stark that his siblings saw, but he was living proof of their brother and that’s all they needed.

“A man apparently loves me.” She sighed, watching the winds whistle through the trees.

“It is apparent that you do not know how to feel about it.” He stated, looking up at her.

“Sansa had her knights and I had my swords,” Arya muttered, “What is this feeling? I feel like I’m in one of Sansa’s old stupid songs.”

“To answer what you are feeling Arya Stark,” he placed a hand on his heart, “I believe they call it love.”

“Love.” She repeated.

The word felt foreign on her tongue. But when she pictured the blue eyes of Gendry, she felt weak and her heart began to stammer.

“Only a fool would love during winter, during a _war_ at the most.” She told herself more than she minded telling her peculiar brother.

“Then that would make half the world fools,” Bran said back and the realisation hit Arya like a blow, “Jon and the blacksmith were not talking of weapons forged out of dragonglass. They weren’t even talking about the war to come.”

Arya looked at him wide-eyed, begging him silently to tell her the truth. The truth that made her heart feel heavy in her chest.

“They were talking about legitimisation. They were talking of love and matrimony,” he stopped as he saw Arya sink to the ground, sitting by his chair, “They’re both bastards Arya, their minds think alike. But the blacksmith only wants one thing in the world.”

She looked up at the sky that had become black, “And what is that Bran.”

“It’s you.”

 

 

 


	5. The Lady of Winterfell II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa talks to the blacksmith of Winterfell about a very important matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it feels like the plot has leaped off the cliff but it's coming (just hiding). I swear that things will be resolved and we might get some actual action happening! 
> 
> If you haven't checked the chapter note from Chapter 1, after 4 POVs (Sansa, Gendry, Jon and Arya), there's a miniscule time gap of about 1 to 2 months. Bran has also said that the Night King is about a 1 month march from Winterfell, so you can imagine how it's going to play out soon!
> 
> Thank you for the lovely support guys xx

**Sansa POV**

Sansa and Jon sat in the Great Hall alone, not daring to share the company of too many. They had called Arya, Bran and Daenerys but they hadn’t come yet. She could see her brother shaking as held the tattered note in his hands, the one sent by the fastest raven from Castle Black. It had died before it had arrived in Winterfell and was picked up by a Lord in the surrounding fields. It was a small letter; the words were rushed and sketchy. He finished reading it and shoved it to her, his head now in his hands.

 

 

_Jon,_

_Eastwatch has fallen, there’s a big bloody hole in the wall and the dead are walking through it. The men scattered, we haven’t heard about Tormund nor the others. He’s got a dragon Jon, the gold one. Burned the wall down by the sea. We’re all coming to Winterfell, there’s no use manning a useless wall._

_-Edd_

 

 

Arya came in through the door wheeling Bran with Daenerys following elegantly behind her. Sansa met her sister’s gaze, one that was worried and full of fear.

“You’ve got less than a moon till he comes Jon.” Bran said silently, but his words still echoed off the empty walls.

He had been asleep for nearly a fortnight, the maester couldn’t even figure out what had happened to him but suddenly when the sun had risen today, he had woken with fear flashing in his soulless, grey eyes.

“Less than a moon.” Muttered Jon, as she felt him get up and start pacing.

“We’re prepared Jon, everyone has been working day and night.” Sansa looked up to her brother who was looking at Daenerys in concern.

“And the spears?” Jon asked, “Are those prepared?”

“What spears?” Arya barked, scowling at the lack of inclusion.

“Dragonglass tipped spears to kill the wight dragon,” Bran said for Jon and Sansa was grateful, “With the dragon gone, the Night King would have to be on foot. Easier to kill him that way.”

“Gendry has them ready Jon,” Sansa sighed, getting up to dust her dress, “We just need someone to man the contraption.”

Sansa noted Daenerys’ solemn look. The dragons were her children and the Night King had stolen one away.

_Her child was killed._

Sansa looked away, she was only coping with the news that had come on the raven today. She saw Jon pass the note to Daenerys, who then passed it to Arya.

“Edd doesn’t have that many men left, but it will better than nothing if they’re here.” Jon mentioned.

“And this Edd? He’s the acting commander of the Night’s Watch?” Daenerys asked distastefully.

“There’s no more need for the Night’s Watch, the dead are here.” Arya said.

“They’re good men, all of them. Let’s just hope to the Gods they come soon.” Jon muttered through his teeth and the room remained deathly quiet.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later that evening, Sansa made a trip to the forge. She didn’t bother knocking on the door as she entered the small, heat stricken room. Gendry was there, hammering away, nothing covering his bare chest spare a dirty apron.

“Lady Stark.” He looked up in surprise, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Please call me Sansa.” She said, looking around at the many weapons.

He nodded and continued to his work. If the bags under his eyes were any indicator, the man had been working tirelessly for days and nights alike. She could see why her sister took a liking to him…

“The quantity of the weapons you’ve forged are overwhelming, how’d you do it?” Sansa asked breathlessly, eyeing a pile of dragonglass daggers, spearheads and arrowheads lying in the corner.

“No distractions I guess milady.” He replied, working and talking.

“Distractions?” she pressed, confused by his meaning.

“People coming in to disturb me, other men pestering me about the dents in their armour, the like.” He said, not looking up from his work.

“People coming in to disturb you?” she pondered for a moment, “Ah, you mean Arya.”

The clanking sound vibrated through the small room as he dropped his hammer nearly on his toe. His face flashing wildly.

“You think I don’t know?” Sansa asked tensely, “I think I know my sister well enough to know that something’s off.”

“It must be Jon milady, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gendry lied, looking away to avoid her cold stare.

“I wouldn’t lie to me blacksmith,” she threatened, “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to tell me the truth.”

He nodded nervously.

“My sister…” she asked hesitantly, “Do you love her.”

He looked at her for a moment and then he sighed, “Aye milady. With all my heart.”

“And does she love you?”

“I haven’t seen her in a month…”

“I already know.” A voice sprang out from the entrance of the forge.

Arya stood firmly in her breeches, Needle hung without it’s scabbard on your shoulder.

All the Gods combined were not going to save them both.

“I already know,” she repeated, “Jon told me, the bloody Hound told me, I’ve got serving girls and milk maids telling me.”

Her gaze became angry, but they weren’t on Sansa. They were on the man behind her as he stared her down with the same demeanour.

“All but the actual man who says he loves me.” She said quietly and Sansa saw his gaze weaken, like he was about to cry in front of them both.

When he didn’t reply, she snorted loudly and walked out the forge, slamming the door behind her. Gendry did not move, he stayed fixed to the spot near the fire with his hammer at his feet. Sansa thought this man was strong, both in the mind and in his physical form. But she had struck something deep inside him, cutting him in the most vulnerable spot.

“I’d advise you to speak to her,” Sansa finally whispered quietly, as if Arya was going to come raging back in, “If you know her, you’d remember that she’s bound to do reckless actions for the people she loves.”

Gendry picked up his hammer and laid it near the fire, his blue eyes looked like rippling waves.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he muttered and he went out the door.

She smiled at his casual use of her name, knowing that if Arya had to wed one man, it’d be this one.

 

 


	6. The Bastard Smith II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Gendry manages to tell her the thing he was always meant to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There ya go, fluff, fluff and hey, a lot more fluff. I think with a month to go and all, we're going to finally see these two a lot more ;) 
> 
> Thank you so so so much for the comments and kudos, love you all.

**Gendry**

 

 

 

Night had already fallen by the time he had walked out the forge leaving Sansa Stark to the confines of the incredibly hot shack. His heart stammered in his chest as he looked around for the sight of an angry, grey-eyed girl trudging in the opposite direction. But no. All he could see were a couple of stable boys carrying lanterns and talking to each other? Gendry walked up to them, not caring about their weird glances.

“Lady Arya, have you seen her?” he practically yelled and the boys looked at each other thoughtfully.

“No blacksmith, maybe the Stark girl doesn’t want a good fucking tonight.” The younger of the two laughed and spat at Gendry’s feet.

The other snarled, “Piss off you, southern bastard.”

“That would be Lord Gendry Baratheon you’re talking to.” Said a deep voice and all three of them turned around in surprise.

Jon Snow stood tall in his furs and dark leathers, a hand on his sword; Longclaw. His curled hair framed his hardened face and his cold dark eyes pierced through the darkness.

“Your Grace.” the boys stuttered before bowing and running away to complete their jobs.

“I’m not a Baratheon,” Gendry groaned, “I’ve got no time for this, I’m looking for Arya.”

Jon chuckled, “What did you do this time?”

“The worst thing a man could do,” Gendry muttered, “Make sure you burn me when you find me dead in the morning.”

Jon laughed and slapped Gendry on the back, “Arya is a piece of work and you chose her so, no complaining,” he settled down and returned his harsh gaze, “Let her go for a night and come with me to the Great Hall. I could use your counselling for once. One bastard to another.”

“Jon please, I need to talk to her. It’s been too long and I need to see her.” Gendry pleaded.

Jon sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “Well… I was meant to save this for tomorrow but…”

“What?” Gendry asked impatiently.

“How would you feel becoming Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

A few hours later and Gendry still could not find a single trace of the grey-eyed Stark sister. She wasn’t in the Godswood near the heart tree, neither was she around the walls of Winterfell even though it was nearly impossible to see. He had tried everywhere and asked every soul he had encountered about her whereabouts but none could tell him. He was beginning to feel cold, hungry and terribly frustrated. Worried was a better word but he was starting to get angry as well.

_Where in Seven Hells is she?_

With all his pondering, he nearly collided headfirst into Sandor Clegane, who’s enormous stature made him quite visible in the darkness of night.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re heading off to?” The Hound growled at him.

“Arya,” Gendry whispered, “Where is she?”

The Hound laughed at him making his fists curl up in anger.

“Probably sharpening her little toothpick, ready to stab a cunt like you.” He replied, staring Gendry down, “Get to your room and stop damn worrying about her like she needs the help.”

Gendry sighed, feeling defeated. Sleep couldn’t hurt and he wasn’t used to these winter winds even with the massive furs that were meant to keep his body warm. He stepped away from the Hound and walked towards the keep, climbing the stairs and entering the hallway on the way to his room. Jon had given it to him because it apparently been his during his time as the Bastard of Winterfell. Gendry felt bad he hadn’t even seen inside the door yet, he had been sleeping at the forge every single night so he could wake early and start working on the weapons.

He came to the door and opened it, gasping at how spacious the room was; a large wooden bed took up the back wall and a large wooden chest stood up adjacent to it. He walked up and touched the furs that lined the bed and marvelled at how soft and warm they were until he noticed something.

He hadn’t slept here at all and yet the bed covers seemed rustled like someone had been in them recently.

_Probably a maid or someone fooling around._

But his thoughts changed when he slapped down on the blankets and a smaller yelp came from the covers.

_Holy Mother! There’s someone in my bed. Do I run? What do I do?_

The person in the bed slowly got up, still covered head to toe under the blanket.

“Gods, you don’t come to this room in a moon and now you burst in hitting me?”

The voice belonged to only one person in the entire world and hell, he was not prepared for what was coming next. Arya Stark emerged from the furs like a Northern goddess with her bare shoulders exposed.

_Oh Gods, she’s naked. Are they going to sing songs about a bastard smith who was killed in chamber by a naked girl._

“What are you looking at?” she barked and he jumped.

He peeled his eyes away and he walked away, “Nothing.”

“So, what you told Sandor and my brother? Was that nothing too?” she hissed at him, her eyes burning holes in his.

“Arya…” he growled in frustration.

“It has been a moon and you haven’t talked to me, come up to me or even looked at me in the eye! What are you trying to achieve Gendry Waters? Trying to get away from me before the dead come and kill us all.”

“Shut up Arya.” He said angrily but she scoffed in return.

“The fact is, I have shut up. And now, I’m going to open my damn mouth because you’re obviously too cowardly to say anything…”

“I said shut up Arya! Hear me out!” he pleaded, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his face in his palms.

She went silent, not moving a muscle from where she lay, butt naked under the furs.

“I have been working my ass off trying to make weapons for everyone to fight the fucking Night King and his dead army and any day of that “moon” you could have come to the forge but you didn’t,” before she started to argue, he cut her off again, “Now I know telling others of my feelings for you wasn’t the wisest thing to do but you should know that your family is horrendously pushy.”

She leant over and slapped his face, so loud that the sound echoed against the walls. He didn’t even bother holding his face or yelling at her because he knew he deserved it. She stared at him with those grey eyes, eyes that looked murderous.

“But what I told them was the truth. Every single fucking word of it.” He said, leaning over to cup her face this time, knowing damn well she could slap him again or worse, stab him.

She didn’t seem to flinch at his touch though and neither did she when he pressed his lips to hers ever so gently. When he pulled away, he could fee her shuddering under his touch, her eyes had softened as she looked right back at him. He smiled, taking one of her hands in his, stroking her knuckles.

“I love you Arya Stark.”  

 


	7. The King in the North II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds out all the things he did not need to find out, all in one morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! After Arya's POV, the Great War will have started. Stay tuned my lovelys and thanks for all the wonderful support.

**Jon**

 

 

 

 

“And are you sure this _thing_ will work?” Jon asked hesitantly, looking at the medium sized contraption apparently carrying the ability to take a dragon down.

The grass was still frosted over in the morning, the chilling winds snapped through the yard as Winterfell slowly woke up.

“Jon, Queen Daenerys said it needs to have the same force and speed of the one that the Night King threw at her dragon and even she said this _thing_ matches it.” Sansa replied, rolling her eyes.

“But you do realise whatever the spears that the Night King used were made of some magical ice? Is dragonglass really a good replacement?” He pressed.

He wasn’t sure about it and he did not want another one of Daenerys’ dragons falling at the Night King’s hand.

“We know that dragonglass can kill the White Walkers so we can only hope and pray.” Sansa sighed, defeated.

“And you’re positive about who’s manning this thing.” Jon whispered as he saw the stable boy in charge of the deadly machine.

“I’ve seen the boy in the practise field, he’s better than all the archers Jon.” Sansa assured him.

“I can vouch for him your Grace, Gendry helped out with the metal work and I saw them fly the bloody thing. He’s got good aim this one.” Davos Seaworth walked up the brother and sister, his hands behind his back, “Jon, your brother said he wanted a word. He’s in his usual spot by the heart tree.”

Jon looked towards the Godswood with a worried glance. It had been a weird couple of moons for Bran, even the visions he had been having were leaving all the Starks concerned about the outcome of the Great War.

“I’ll see you soon Sansa,” he nodded at her and left with Davos, “What’s he got in store for us today?”

“Got no clue your Grace, seems mighty important though.”

The older man was clearly hiding something. All those years as a smuggler didn’t pay off in front of the King in the North.

They quickly entered the Godswood with their footsteps mostly covered by the snow. Bran sat near the pool in his chair.

“Morning Bran.” Jon smiled, touching the arm of his younger brother.

“Hello Jon,“ the boy turned slightly to see Davos standing awkwardly to the side, “Ser Davos, if you do not mind, I need to talk to Jon in solitude.”

“With pleasure.” The man bowed and walked off towards the yard again.

“Did they find Arya?” Bran asked once they were alone.

“Yes, Gendry found her in the keep.” Jon answered.

Bran nodded and Jon could have sworn he saw the boy smirk.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked, worriedly.

“Nothing, it just seems like our sister has grown up,” Bran replied, “But that’s not why I asked you to come here.”

“Then what is it? Is it about the war?” Jon pressed, his brows furrowing.

“It’s about the Queen actually.” Bran hesitated.

He let the silence continue as he looked out in the distance.

“Jon your mother was not Catelyn Stark.” Bran started.

“Oh Gods, Bran I get it and my father was Ned…”

“No.”

“No?”

Jon’s heart began to beat uncontrollably in his chest.

“Your father wasn’t Ned Stark, Ned Stark never had a bastard child, he would never cheat Catelyn like that,” the boy shifted in his chair to look at him, “Your mother was his sister, Lyanna Stark.”

Jon’s eyes widened and felt his legs cave in from under him.

“Your mother was Lyanna Stark and your father was Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Winter whispered through the trees,

“Your mother named you Aegon Targaryen.”

_I’m a Targaryen._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 He crossed the yard with long gaits, desperate to get to his chamber to be alone. He didn’t want to see a single person of his family, his _cousins_ or Daenerys, his _aunt._ Whenever he thought of that relation he now shared with Daenerys, he couldn’t help but feel extremely nauseous. In his case, he now had a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than Daenerys did, but that was the last thing on his mind. He jumped two steps at a time and ran down the long corridor to his chamber, opening the door to…

“Shit.” He cursed, seeing Daenerys sitting on the bed, having Missandei braid her hair.

He had forgotten that he decided to share a chamber with her. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ But the two women were too caught up in their conversation to have even noticed him. He closed the door silently and walked away, unsure of his next movements.

_Gendry!_

Jon had seen him enter his chamber the previous night, most likely contempt with finding Arya safe and sound. He ran to Gendry’s room, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. He reached the door and blindly knocked on the door until his knuckles went pink.

But Jon could have sworn he heard multiple voices and weird noises before Gendry slowly opened the door, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Jon?” the smith asked him, wiping sleep from his eyes.

“I need some consolation.” Jon sighed, letting the air slowly leave his lungs.

Gendry looked back into his room suspiciously with a worried glance and then opened the door fully to let Jon in, “One bastard to another?” Gendry pressed.

Jon gulped. He wasn’t a bastard any longer.

“I guess.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“So, what you’re saying is that… You’re not even a Stark?!” Gendry practically yelled, standing up from where they were sitting on his bed.

He was shirtless, just wearing his breeches from the night before. Jon eyed the messy disarray of his room for just one night.

“Keep your voice down boy,” Jon looked around until something very specific caught his eyes, “I thought you loved my sister.”

Gendry’s face went completely red, “Jon what in Seven Hells are you talking about, of course I do.”

“Then why is there a second pair of breeches on the ground?”

“I was trying some different ones on.” He replied, his blue eyes averted Jon’s darker ones.

“They look a bit too small for you.” Jon pressed and bent down to pick the piece of cloth up until suddenly a small hand flicked a dagger out from under the bed, dangerously close to the soft spot of his arm.

“Arya!?” Jon yelled and pulled her out.

She was wearing Gendry’s tunic that went down to her upper thighs. She looked furious, like he had never seen her.

“Oh fuck.” He heard Gendry curse from the other side of the room.

“What are you doing here?” Jon growled, tightening his grip on her arm.

“We didn’t do anything!” she hissed back, fighting against the restraint, “Let me go Jon! I’m a fucking woman, I don’t need you to baby me around.”

Jon stared at the both of them; one looking like she was ready to murder him and the other looked like he had already accepted his death.

“Both of you. In the Great Hall now!” Jon looked at them again, rolling his eyes, “Just get dressed first, Sansa and I will be in the Great Hall.”


	8. The She-Wolf II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry get a telling off but not without some happy times

**Arya**

 

 

 

 

She was surprisingly not mad at Gendry at all, it was her older brother whose neck she wanted to wring. It was not like he had taken her maidenhead or anything, they were both too tired to try anything. They had fell asleep, half naked under the furs in the arms of one another. Gendry looked terribly stressed out, the ordeal with Jon moments before had him scowling.

She walked up to him placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, smiling at him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she turned and stared at the door, “Jon’s just stupidly protective. He doesn’t realise I am fully grown woman.”

“It’s not that Arya,” he groaned, finding her hand and enclosing it in his, “People are going to say I’m fucking the King’s sister.”

She cupped his face, stroking the slight stubble that had grown over his sleepless nights in the forge.

“Don’t worry about them, Jon respects you and I’m his favourite. It’s basically his fault, trying to get us together.”

Gendry offered a weak smile and looked the other way.

“What are you hiding from me Gendry.” Arya asked, her face drained from any notable emotion.

“Jon is going to legitimise me, I’m going to be a lord.” He replied, pushing a loose strand of her hair behind her hair.

“Lord Gendry Baratheon. Has a nice ring.” Arya smiled, kissing him softly on the mouth.

“It does, doesn’t it?” he finally felt himself smirk, “What about Lady Arya Baratheon, does that have the same kick?”

Her face screwed up and she laughed, “Funny Gendry, now get dressed before Jon comes shouting back in.

Truthfully, Arya’s heart stammered in her chest. She hated being called a lady as much as she hated being one­. But the thought of running a castle with Gendry did things to her because she could actually see it. Being married?

She shook her head at the fantasy. They had a war to fight, the possibility of losing and becoming all dead men walking. But maybe, the distraction was something she needed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

To spare Jon another heart attack, Gendry and Arya went through separate doors to the Great Hall with Arya sitting up with her siblings and Gendry down with the other men. But as soon as they caught each other’s gaze, the eye fucking was anything but subtle. He winked at her and she had to look away or she might have shattered right there and then.

Jon and Daenerys did the majority of the talking, the subject rarely leaving how they were going to win the war against the army of the dead. Sansa made a comment here and there but mostly kept her mouth shut. She had strangely been doing that ever since Jon had returned with Daenerys. Another thing that Arya noticed was that Jon did not sit next to Daenerys even though she was sure they managed to sneak into a chamber together. It did not bother her that Jon loved the Dragon Queen, Daenerys was a strong woman with a strong will to fight for others and Arya respected that deeply.

“He’s staring at you,” Daenerys whispered into her ear, “The blacksmith.”

Arya shifted her gaze to Gendry who was genuinely smirking at her. She rolled her eyes and supressed her own small smile under a hand.

“He does that a lot.” Arya replied, watching Daenerys giggled in understanding.

 The atmosphere in the Great Hall was tiring, Jon spent a great deal of the time arguing with a Northern lord who was thinking about going South. Jon disbanded the thought with the threat that either army that won would crush them after the outcome of the war. Afterwards, he settled down in his chair, sighing.

“On the contrary, today I will announce the lordship of a specific man.”

Arya’s eyes fell to Gendry who was looking up at Jon in anticipation.

“Gendry Waters would you please stand?” Jon motioned to the seated smith.

Gendry rose and whispers shot over the hall.

“Like me, Gendry’s mother was not a noble lady,” Jon got up and walked down to where Gendry was standing, “But his father… His father was Robert Baratheon, the late King of Westeros.”

Suddenly the hall erupted with noise, some cheering, some roaring. Tankards of ale flew through the air.

“My father and his father were good friends, they fought together on the battlefield and so shall we,” Jon placed a hand on Gendry’s shoulder, “Gendry Waters, Queen Daenerys and I name you Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End.”

Everyone cheered loudly, men stood up and slapped his back, even Sandor smiled and congratulated him with a hand on his shoulder. Jon leaned in to hug him, gripping tight on to his back, moving close to his ear but still in range for Arya to hear.

“If you want to bed my sister maybe you should consider a marriage alliance before the Northern lords start presenting their fair sons.”

Arya could see Gendry’s face tighten as he stared back at Jon, nodding.

“Congratulations.” Arya said, breaking the awkward silence between her two favourite men.

He smiled at her but immediately stopped when Jon gave him a death stare.

_If looks could kill…_

She grabbed Gendry’s wrist and led him through the thrall of rowdy men, taking him straight out the door where they could be in private.

“Congratulations,” she repeated, leaning up on her tippy toes to kiss him, “I know Jon is trying to marry me off in one way or another but I didn’t know he was such a craven.”

He leaned down and kissed her back a little bit more passionately, cupping her face.

“Well I wouldn’t let you near one of those scrawny Northern boys.” He whispered, as they touched foreheads.

“Scrawny? Some of them looked like they could break you in half.” She teased.

“Surely, you’re not considering one of those… Boys?” he asked her in disgust, “Because I know a certain Baratheon lord who’s looking for quite the specific lady.”

“Yeah and I heard she doesn’t want to be a lady.” Arya replied angrily, pushing against his chest.

“Arya…” he started but she turned away.

“Maybe if you want to wed me so badly, you should ask me properly.” She said back, flushing.

He pulled her back into his arms and stroked her hair.

“After this damn war, you and I will go live in a big castle and do whatever the hell we want? How does that sound?” he whispered and Arya smiled.

Arya sighed and leaned against his chest, “Will I still be able to kill Cersei?”

“Of course.” He chuckled.

“Then, that sounds perfect.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters are coming! Stay tuned


	9. The Lady of Winterfell III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Great War already started, Sansa stays at Winterfell in the company of certain family, friends and foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The Great War has started. I know that this chapter didn't have anything Gendry or Arya related but Sansa deserves a bit of down time. Plus hello Jaime! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks everyone for the support on this fic, more chapters are coming soon.

**Sansa**

 

 

 

 

Sansa figured out pretty quickly that she did not like war one bit. Overlooking the cruel Battle of the Bastards was one thing, but seeing the yard of Winterfell filled with hundreds of injured and dying men was enough to make her nauseous. The dead didn’t fight with battle tactics, nor with the grace of man fighting for the honour of his house. The dead came to kill and the Night King came to spread his icy fingers over anything living. The moon that Bran and Edd had warned them about came around very quickly and whatever consolation they found in the words, “We’re ready” was put back into the grave. Sansa’s one job was to maintain Winterfell as a working castle so that the wounded could be treated and the ones not able to fight could find refuge from the conflict. Even with Bran’s company, Sansa felt extremely lonely, constantly fretted about the condition of her siblings and closest friends. She had cried the day they brought Sandor Clegane back, a large gaping tear in the flesh from the claws of a wight. But Samwell Tarly had stitched it back up and he was back to the battlefield the next morning. Sansa had not heard a word from Arya and Jon who she presumed were still alive and well.

But Sansa realised that being the Lady of Winterfell meant that she also had to welcome unwanted visitors into her home. Those visitors being Jaime Lannister and Bronn of Blackwater who kindly informed her that Cersei was not going anywhere North. Bran sat in his chair beside her as they met the two men at the gates of Winterfell.  

“Why should I let you fight alongside my loved ones when you caused my family so much pain?” Sansa hissed at him, her cold demeanour surprised the King Slayer.

“Lady Stark, I think we both know my sister quite well. Manipulative is word I like to use sometimes.” Jaime replied, looking at his companion awkwardly.

“The things we do for love.” Bran recited.

Jaime stared at him in shock.

“You pushed my brother out a window and now he can never walk again, your father gave the order to kill my mother, my brother and his wife at a wedding and _your_ son beheaded my father,” she frowned at him, “Why should I ever trust you?”

“You don’t need to trust me to let me fight the bloody Night King,” Jaime assured her, raising his voice, “Do you see any other Lannister men? See Cersei? No. I came here on my own accord. Out of my own loyalty to the vow to kill those _things_.”

Sansa stared at him coldly before looking at Bran who gave her a small nod.

“Ser Jaime, I allow you to fight for the army of the dead alongside the others on the condition that you gruel out our nights with the other soldiers in the cold and accept your consequences if you or your companion are wounded. I will not be wasting valuable healing materials on you.” Sansa concluded, feeling slightly proud of herself.

“This is more than what I thought you would offer me Lady Sansa. I am forever in your debt and I will fight until I breathe my last breath if I have to.” Jaime answered, getting down on one knee.

“I do not need your promises Lannister,” she spat, turning her head in disgust, “You and your loyalty means nothing to me. This is not about vows, this is about life and death.”

“I understand.” Jaime replied caustiously.

“Escort these men to the battle tents and recall to the King of the restrictions placed on Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn.” She said to a soldier behind, who loyally came to her command instantly.

“Of course my lady.”

Sansa may not have swords or a violent force but she did have spine. She had played the game of thrones and had been spun around in it like a doll but she had survived.

And now she was going to make sure the ones she loved did as well.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

A raven had come the day the proper fighting started. Apparently, the Night King rode on the golden dragon, once called Viserion who tore through the living forces like a knife through a lemon cake. Sansa only prayed that Arya or Jon were not caught up in the thrall that was targeted by the blue flames of the dragon.

“My lady, there is nothing to worry about.” Tyrion had said.

He had opted to stay out of the fighting due to his non-beneficial stature which would prove at a disadvantage against the wights. Tyrion had helped with the military planning which was far from actual battle tactics because how were they to use them against a mindless, undead army. But when the fighting had started, Tyrion moved to help Sansa around at Winterfell; recording the food stocks, managing who came in and out of Winterfell to seek refuge and communicated with the soldiers at the on-going battle.

“Do you remember when I was a girl, my lord?” Sansa said, nostalgically.

The half-man nodded, leaning back into his chair.

“I was the one fantasying about a handsome knight to take me away and a king to marry,” Sansa sighed, slightly smiling to herself, “Now my brother and younger sister have had more luck than me in love. I mean my sister for Gods sake.”

“You were a child Sansa, that’s what girls like you do when you are children. The way you were treated had nothing to do with that.” Tyrion assured her, placing a hand on her forearm.

“If I had been as daring as Arya, I could have escaped and run off into the wild.” Sansa whispered, as if the ghost of Ramsey and Peytr Baelish could hear her in the empty hall.

“Arya must have loved and lost as well you my lady, no journey through this life is an easy one. But look at the both of you; so strong, you being the Lady of Winterfell, the other able to best the Hound and Lady Brienne in a sword fight. To some extent, you both got what you wanted even if the journey was very unpleasant.” Tyrion hypothesised.

“I can imagine your own journey was not the most pleasant tale.” Sansa said in return, the coldness ebbed back into her words.

“If a man wants to survive, first he must suffer,” Tyrion replied, taping his ring on the table, “With regrets and loss my lady, each man grieves a different way.”

“And which wise man said that?” Sansa chuckled.

“One that obviously didn’t suffer enough.” Tyrion said back, a smiled beamed on his broken face.

“I hope that everyone survives this war,” Sansa touched the ends of her hair, “But the Gods are cruel so I guess all that you and I can do is pray for their return.”

Tyrion smiled at the red-head, admiring how much she had grown and matured into a fully bloomed woman.

“Yes, pray and wait.”


	10. The Bastard Smith III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and the others learn of the plans to defeat the Night King when they are visited on by a specific one handed man and his sellsword companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope these chapters aren't too boring or anything but the fighting will soon start! And Jon is a little bit of a savage. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, thank you for the support.

**Gendry**

 

 

 

 

The horns that sounded in the morning hadn’t woken Gendry up.

It was more the fact, he would be fighting hundreds of walking dead men that day with his life at stake. But Gendry hated the tents and the hundreds of men ready for battle for it made him think of the possibility of dying. So, before dawn had started to break out, he found himself in the forest by a frozen stream. No birds sang and critters didn’t mutter, only the whistling of winter winds kept the forest alive and breathing.

“Fancy seeing you here.” a familiar voice called out, breaking the serenity.

Gendry turned around to see the King in the North, Jon Snow standing behind him.

“Are you scared?” Gendry asked, returning his gaze to the trees.

“Don’t let the others hear me but…” Jon sat down beside him, “I am shitting myself.”

Gendry let out a laugh, “Well, I have to say the same. I mean it wouldn’t be very wise if you weren’t completely shitting yourself.”

Jon was already wearing his armour; it was black and steel grey with the engraving of a wolf on each shoulder. Gendry had worked day and night on it to make it specially for him and he was glad Jon looked like a king in it.

“You haven’t talked to the Queen yet?” Gendry asked, looking Jon’s solemn face.

“I guess I have not.” He replied, finding a twig on the ground and snapping it in his fingers.

“Maybe you should.” Gendry advised.

Jon was now his friend, one his closest.

“Daenerys is not going to be phased if we’re related,” Jon scoffed, “The Targaryens wed brother and sister, she grew up believing she would be her brother’s bride.”

“Aye but she doesn’t know that _you’re_ related to her. And well… She is technically your aunt, it makes matters a little different. It’ll come out as shock.” Gendry told him.

He saw Jon’s face scrunch up in disgust. The poor man had fallen in love and the world had turned to shit again.

“When I told you…” Jon started, “In your room? Arya heard everything right?”

The smith shook his head, “It was too muffled under the bed and we were at the door, too far away from where she was.”

Jon laughed awkwardly, “I guess we would hear about it if she knew,” he looked up at the sky that was streaked with the colours of dawn, “I still can’t believe I caught you two…”

“JON! I didn’t do nothing with her!” Gendry groaned, putting his head between his knees and he heard Jon chuckle.

“Sure, sure. She just happened to be wearing your tunic out of consideration.” He smiled and Gendry frowned.

“I swear to all the Gods Jon…”

“Don’t worry, I’m just jesting. I talked to her,” Jon said silently, looking away, “I’m glad she has something worth fighting for. I was worried she lost that… Perception of life. How important it is. You know, with all that killing sometimes one forgets.”

“She has you, that’s a better reason to fight for.” Gendry pushed the thought away.

“I’m not the one she’s going to spend the rest of her life with.” Jon said.

Gendry was shocked beyond words but he just looked away. Soon, he would have to put on his own armour and go collect his war hammer from his tent. He’d be fighting his first battle today and he was far from prepared. But at least he had something to fight for.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

By the time Gendry and Jon had gotten back to the tents, everyone was getting ready, handing around weapons and stew. Nobody looked very motivated except a few wildings and soldiers that promised to get drunk before the fighting started.

“Gendry.” a female voice called out.

He turned around to see Arya leaning on a post, holding two bowls of stew in her hands. She was already dressed in her armour with her hair tied up, away from her face.

“Thought you might be hungry.” She said, walking closer and handing him a bowl which he took eagerly.

They found a patch of grass and sat down, eating their stew in silence. When they had finished, Arya walked him to his tent to go find his armour.

“I still can’t believe we’re letting you fight in this war.” Gendry said softly as Arya tied his breastplate together to fit him tightly.

“Like you could have stopped me,” she scoffed, passing him his war hammer, “Are you nervous?”

It was his turn to scoff.

“Every damn person in this army is shitting themselves. Even lords and knights that’ve fought in battles before, do not know what to expect. Your brother in particular,” he turned to face her, watching her face harden, “People are going to die today Arya. Good people.”

“We’re not going to die,” she said in soft voice as she cupped his cheek, “The Gods kept us alive for this long and so we are going to survive.”

He kissed her forehead, watching her face light up, “If you believe that, so do I.”

“Good.” She replied, leaning against his chest.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“The plan is to get the Night King on foot. He’ll be much easier to kill that way,” Jon circled the battle board, “The only way to do that, is to kill the dragon he rides.”

Arya, Jon, Daenerys, Davos, Tormund and himself had all been called to main tent to discuss the basic plan of attack. The crossbow contraption and the dragonglass spears were to be hidden away in the forage but still close enough to the fighting. Daenerys was responsible for hitting the main flank of the undead army using the dragon fire of Drogon and Rhaegal while trying to avoid the potential threat of the ice spears the Night King used on Viserion.

“When we’re fighting, it will be wise for us to stay in groups and watch each other’s backs…” Jon started until he was cut off by a voice at the foot of the tent.

“Your Grace, Jaime Lannister and Ser Bronn. On the order of Lady Stark, they are not to be treated in any way that would be beneficial your Grace.” A burly soldier called out.

Two men stood beside the soldier, one with armour like Jon’s except his shoulders held a lion’s mane and the other standing with his feet apart and a smug look on his face. One thing was for sure, they were defintly out of place.

“Jaime Lannister.” Gendry heard Jon Snow say through his teeth.

“It is an honour, _King_ Jon.” Jaime said, bowing a little mockingly.

“Where’s Cersei? Where’s the promised Lannister men?” Daenerys asked, her face concerned.

“You really think that come up here and fight with you?” the King Slayer laughed, “Vows mean nothing to her! Not in Seven Hells would she leave her position on the throne vulnerable. I don’t think you’ve realised how uncontrollable she’s gotten.”

“Is that why you left? Finally realised she’s a complete monster?” Arya asked coldly and Gendry shivered.

“My family and I have committed unspeakable crimes against your families and that’s because my father and my sister had me wrapped around their little fingers…” Jaime started but Jon held a hand up.

“Face it, no matter how many times you fall on your knees and beg, nobody here likes you very much,” Jon cleared his throat, moving closer to the Lannister man, “But the dead do not care about honour or houses or who sits on the Iron Throne. They care about killing us and we’re going to try and not get killed. I don’t care if Cersei doesn’t want to come up and North and fight. But the Queen and I will care after we finish this war and come down to King’s Landing to crush her and her Lannister army.”

Jaime lifted his head upwards, meeting Jon’s gaze, “I understand.”

“Now go put a sword in your fucking one hand and go fight with the others like the real King Slayer you are.”

Jon turned away with a rather smug look on his face as he returned to talk to them.


	11. The King in the North III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon leads his army to the dread Night King and his horde of undead wights. But maybe he's not prepared at all for what's to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more chapters coming, stay tuned :) did a bit of battle research, so hope that paid off. sorry for my awful knowledge of terminology!

**Jon**

 

 

 

He mounts his steed; a black coated one, at least seventeen hands. It looks like the one he rode on away from the wights and back to Eastwatch.

_Uncle Benjen’s…_

He shifts in the saddle to see Gendry awkwardly do the same, Arya behind him. Her face set in stone while she sat in her armour that looked too big for her small frame. She didn’t have Needle by her side because everyone knew she wouldn’t be able to smash a wight in half with her little toothpick. She carried a sword of Valyrian steel that Gendry had made many months ago in the Winterfell forge for no one in particular. She was not happy about it at all so Jon and Gendry had kept their distance. Even then, he could tell something had changed about his little sister; not a youngster who pranked her older lovely sister and scared her mother to death. She had killed before, even enjoyed killing. The stories he had heard about the end of House Frey had not been nice ones. Some even said that Arya Stark was possibly one of the best swordswomen out there as she had bested Lady Brienne in the training yard of Winterfell.

For now, Arya kept her eyes straight without moving a single muscle in her body. She did not look fitting in her armour, with her foreign sword and tied up hair. Occasionally, he saw Gendry throwing worried glances at her but she never made eye contact with him. He hadn’t seen her smile since they had mounted.

_She’s different._

He had heard she went across the Narrow Sea to Braavos, not many had seen her since. Varys had told him, she had trained with skilled assassins such as the Faceless Men but Jon had brushed off the insanity, saying that Arya would never do such a thing.

_But then why was she so lethal? A lone girl cannot kill an entire house._

It had been poison wine.

He received a raven the day after it happened, that the Freys were no more and another house must man the Twins. He hadn’t paid much mind to it and he should not now but he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in those many years he had spent apart from his sister.

“Your Grace?” Davos asked, brining Jon back to attention, “Are we to march?”

Jon nodded, gulping with fear.

Even though there were technically men already fighting some wights, this was the day the Long Night had begun.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They travelled on the King’s Road because of course there was no concern for spies or strays of their undead army. Jon and Daenerys’ army was to be spilt into three sections; the middle force consisted of most of the fighting men on horse and foot, the left flank would travel further from the battle in order to attack the White Walkers individually and the right flank protected the contraption. The lack of archers meant they were spread out in the three flanks, acting as a distraction before the main force marched on the wights.

“This is not going to be a pretty battle,” Sandor Clegane grumbled from behind him.

The Hound rode beside Lady Brienne and Jaime Lannister, the red-haired wilding Tormund had refused a horse as he walked with others. Daenerys was to be further away, preparing the dragons. He had remembered their first conversation since he had found out the truth of his heritage from Bran.

 

_“The Dragons should have armour… Or protection. You should not lose another one. I refuse the thought.” Jon said angrily._

_“Drogon is hardly bothered by a large spear, and he’s fast…” she assured him._

_“You saw what the Night King used. Your dragon dropped dead, I’ve never seen something bleed like that.” Jon pressed, there was nothing warm in his tone._

_“They’ll be faster this time.” She repeated._

_“And the other? Is Rhaegal going to be as fast?” He looked away._

_“They both know what happened to Viserion… I will not let the Night King take another one of my children.”_

 

He slowed down and walked his horse beside Arya, looking at her until she was forced to look at him.

“We’re going to be in the left flank.” He reminded her.

“So, we’re the ones killing the Walkers.” Arya asked sarcastically.

“You kill a Walker and all the wights around it die. We’re all skilled enough to take one on each but we need each other.” He said, hoping she’d soften a bit at his reassurance.

“And what about Jaime Lannister? Are you going to protect his back as well? Or is he going to stab a sword in it instead?” she hissed coldly.

“Jaime Lannister came up here to honour the vow his sister broke. It’s a big thing. He committed treason for leaving King’s Landing and riding North, you know that right?” he informed her.

“I don’t care.” She remarked.

“Why are you acting like that?” he asked her, his voice raising.

“Because maybe I’m trying to focus before I try not to get killed by dead people,” she snapped back, gaining the attention from the people around her, “Are you going to charge on the Night King all by yourself?”

“Arya if you even dare…” he threatened.

“You let me fight and I’ll do as I please.” She said back.

“I am the King, you will listen to me…” he hissed furiously.

“You’re my brother, nothing more.” She concluded abruptly.

She kicked her horse into a gallop and sped down the road, in front of the others. Jon felt the urge to follow her and bring her back kicking and screaming but his eyes met with Gendry.

 _“Don’t bother”_ those eyes had said to him and Jon couldn’t help but laugh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rode for another hour at least until they reached an endless sea of snow-covered grass. This was the very place where his father executed deserters and criminals. A swing of the sword called Ice; the Stark family heirloom sword that had been lost.

_Once a place of death, always a place of death._

But Jon hadn’t realised that everyone had stopped. Every single man and woman on horse and foot had ceased in their tracks, staring out. A chilling wind blew out across the field to the road they hadn’t yet left, a cold winter one.

And then he saw them; high up on rolling hill Jon spotted the figures of thousands of standing wights. The usual sight of several Walkers on their undead horses in the front.

“Get into form!” Jon yelled and let Davos repeat the order.

Slowly, Jon’s army shuffled awkwardly into position with wildings clutching their weapons and the Knights of the Vale clutching the reins of their horses. He looked at Arya whose face had shed its emotionless shell. She looked terrified beyond words, her hands shaking slightly.

_They dead are coming, the dead are coming, the dead are coming._

A loud screech sounded the air and from behind the giant masses of the army of the dead, the shadow of a much larger creature formed at the edge of the field.

_The dead are here._


	12. The She-Wolf III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great War has started but a memory of a conversation with Jon makes Arya console in the very thing her life may be worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooop look at me go with my inconsistent posting of chapters! Just got a little unmotivated and swamped with school work so chapters obviously won't be coming out every day now but I'll try and see if I can extend how long the chapters go for. Thanks for the wait, hope you enjoy!

**Arya**

 

 

 

 

The screech was louder than anything she had ever heard.

The way the sound rippled through the earth, shuddering through her legs and up her body. The sound of a dragon, one that was presumed dead. Its scales were a pale icy blue and a large bubbled gash, covered its belly. Her horse shied and Arya fell off, the mare bolting in the opposite direction. Everyone began to charge in panic.

“Arya!” Gendry yelled out, reaching out his hand.

She grabbed it and he hoisted her up into the saddle behind him before the masses of the army trampled her. He kicked the brave horse into a gallop, who grunted at the extra weight but kept up with the flow of charging horses, widlings, Northerners... Still, he rode hard enough to keep up with Jon who looked back in relief.

“Left, left!” Jon yelled at the ones behind him which included Gendry, Arya, the Hound, Brienne, Jaime and others she couldn’t recognise. She kept her arms wrapped around Gendry whose war hammer was strapped to his back. It made it hard for her to stay attached to him but he loosened one hand off the rein to hold on her arm. Even though the moment

The screech sounded again but this time is was further off to the right, meaning that so far their plan was working. The dragon seemed to be focused in the middle which made Arya grit her teeth. She could still see the army of the dead, descending down the hill to meet the living army. Arya could see the white figures of the White Walkers. The Night King was most likely riding the huge wight dragon. She could see Jon’s eyebrows scrunched together, Brienne gave a worried look at her and Gendry tensed under her arms. This was not just some noble house they were preparing to fight; this was an army of undead. She thought about what Jon had said to her, that there was a possibility they all wouldn’t survive the Long Night but with her arms wrapped around Gendry she knew that she’d pray to all the Gods, old and new, to keep those she loved away from harm.

_Away from death._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Jon had told her of his death, stabbed by his own brothers on the wall and when he was brought back to life by the Red Woman. Arya had gritted her teeth at that, saying she’d kill the fuckers who dared betray him like that but he reassured her when he told her of the hangings.

 

 

_“One of the men that killed me...” he had said, “He was only a boy.”_

_“I remember his eyes staring down at me. They were too cold for a boy that young. He killed my love… But she killed his parents first.” He reminisced._

_“You loved someone?” Arya asked._

_“Aye, her name was Ygritte. Flaming red hair like our sister but as fierce and strong as you,” he looked at her, messing her hair up, “Why so curious all the sudden little sister?”_

_“What’s it like to love someone…” she looked down at her hands, the calluses formed by the work of the sword, “How do feel when you love someone.”_

_“Well… When Gendry looks at you, he isn’t staring at a girl he wants to take to bed. I think he’s looking at you the same way I believed I looked at Ygritte; that I could see her by my side when I grew old… Or with our babe in her arms. And well, you know also the bedding…”_

_“JON! Enough detail!”_

_He laughed and gave her cheek a little pinch, “When you love someone, you’ll look at them and you’ll see yourself in them. You’ll see how part of your life they are and imagine if they were to leave and there would be this irreplaceable hole. That’s how I felt when that boy took her from me Arya. That’s how Robert felt when Lyanna was taken away from him. He started a war did he not?”_

_She smiled at him and nodded._

_“And I know that Gendry would start a war with every man from Westeros and Essos combined if he were to lose you.”_

_“He’s so bull-headed.” She chuckled._

_“Do you love him?” Jon asked with a serious tone._

_“I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t love my bastard smith.”_

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time Arya had returned to her senses, the horses had stopped on the outer fringe of the battlefield and everyone was quickly dismounting. They were far away enough to not get attacked by the full brunt of the wights but the smell and the shouts of the fighting felt like they were standing right in the middle of it. A few stragglers of the undead army were roaming around but there didn’t seem to be a Walker present.

The taste of metal suddenly filled her mouth in a great amount.

“Arya! You’re bleeding.” Jon said worriedly, pointing to her mouth.

“What?! Where? Are you hurt? What happened?” Gendry immediately came up to her, cupping her cheek and looking into her eyes with flashing concern.

“I’m fine, I just bit my tongue, stupid.” She rolled her eyes at his fussing, pushing him out the way.

He ripped a scrap of fabric from his tunic and started to dab the blood away from her mouth.

“Gendry,” she hissed, “I don’t need to be mothered like some child.”

She could hear the Hound chuckling in the distance and Jon staring at the two in shock. Even Brienne had lifted a hand to her face to conceal her giggling.

“Stop moving! I’m nearly done.” He answered, ignoring her physical protests.

“Gendry we’re in the middle of a war! We need to keep moving!” she shouted.

“Keep. Still.” He growled, his voice becoming extremely dangerous.

His eyes had turned into thrashing waters rather than their usual soft baby blue colour as they bore into her skull making her paralysed head to toe. But through his anger, which was as bull-headed as it always was, those eyes didn’t hide the love he held for her.

“Gendry?” she asked and at the sound of his name, the storm in his eyes seemed to pass.

“Yes milady?”

"I need to tell you something."

He finished with the scrap cloth and hide it under his armour, watching her from his towering height.

“Gendry… I think I lo—“

“WIGHTS! A BLOODY LOT OF THEM! READY YOUR SWORDS!” they heard Jon shout.

Arya broke away, instinctually drawing her sword and setting off towards the others.

“Arya!” she heard Gendry call from behind her, “Finish that damned sentence right fucking now!”

She turned around to find his face torn up with pain but not the kind from any kind of injury.

“I love you Gendry Baratheon.” She said with a smile on her face.

"Took your sweet time milady."

"Try not to die today please." she pleaded, ignoring his teasing.

"Anything for you Arya," he smiled, bending down to kiss her, "Shall we go _my lady_?"

She smiled and turned her back and they both ran off towards the fighting.

And that was Gendry's way of telling her that she was his and he was hers. 

 


	13. The Lady of Winterfell IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns the truth and speaks to the dearest friend of Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been so busy with work to write chapters. But because I've made you guys wait I will be posting another chapter after this one very very soon. 
> 
> Thank you so much for 200 kudos! You mean the world to me!

**Sansa**

 

Sansa kneeled in the Godswood, praying before the heart tree. She did not really exert much care at which Gods she prayed to (she’d truly pray to all of them) but she prayed more names of loved ones than she did names of Gods. Like Arya’s so-called list of names, Bran’s visions and Jon’s tales of White Walkers, Sansa prayed their names again and again. _Gods,_ she was praying for names that she never thought would make her weep.

_Jon, Arya, Brienne, Tormund, Sandor, Gendry, Daenerys, Jon, Arya, Jon, Arya…._

She jolted at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

“Sansa Stark.” A cold voice called out.

She turned to see her brother in his chair, his eyes glazed over in their abnormal distant look. The poor was as thin as a stick and his wispy hair clung to his pale skin. His large winter cloak drowned his small frame but he was still Brandon Stark. Even though he insisted he was a raven with three eyes.

“Brandon Stark.” Sansa replied coldly, sitting upright to face her brother.

“You fear for them.” He noted with his eyes so piercing, she was forced to avert her gaze.

“I believe you should as well brother,” she said back, “Sleep has never come easily for me these past years.”

He nodded in understanding, “I do Sansa, even though I may not be the Brandon Stark you know this skin by. But I fear for the living. I fear for the living if the dead should win.” He replied unmoving.

“You ought to fear for your brother and sister’s life.” She corrected him, looking at him sternly.

“I see… He has not had the will to tell you.” He said out the blue and Sansa shot him a confused look.

“Lyanna Stark… We all know her memory well.” Bran sighed.

“Father always says Arya was much like her.” Sansa reminisced, thinking of her short haired sister, training in the yard only a moon ago.

“There are differences…” Bran started.

Sansa laughed out loud, “They are practically identical. More wolf than girl, riding horses and wearing men’s breeches… and let’s not forget, their love for Baratheons even if the smith is a bastard.”

“And that is where you are wrong dear sister,” Bran retorted, “Lyanna Stark was promised to a Baratheon but she did not love him.”

Sansa went quiet, the cold winds whistled through the trees of the Godswood.

“She loved a Targaryen… Rhaegar Targaryen. They eloped and she had his child.”

“There’s long lost Targaryen…” Sansa said out loud, “Who..?”

“He was named Aegon by his mother… When father found her she told him to protect her son and we both know that our father was an honourable man so he kept her word.”

“Where is he Bran?” Sansa almost shouted.

“Leading his people to war against the Night King. Leading his people as the King in the North.” He replied.

_Jon Snow._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sansa entered the makeshift tents that acted as a medical ward in Winterfell’s yard, covering her mouth from the stench of illness and death that surrounded the cots of dying men. Samwell Tarly leant over a bed, stitching a wilding’s leg up from where it had been slashed. His wilding lover sat on the other side of the bed with her son in her arms.

“Milady,” Gilly said as she attempted to get up.

“Please spare the formalities. Sansa is fine.” She assured and urged the woman to sit back in her chair.

Samwell looked up from his work on the patient’s leg and gave a pained smile.

“Sorry for the sight my lady, not really very appealing. But it has to be done.”

Sansa nodded with a small smile.

The man under the care of him did not seem phased by the heavy procedure occurring on his leg. He had nothing but a tankard of ale to comfort the pain but it sat untouched next to his burly head.

“No news from Jon?” she asks him.

He shakes his head with a solemn look in his eye, “The Hound was the only one of Jon’s party to come here. But he left as soon as he got here.”

“I do recall.” Sansa remembered.

“Jon always talked highly of you and your sister.” The man chuckled joyfully.

“I highly doubt that. I treated him like dirt.” She replied, shifting on her two feet.

“Well… There’s no use fretting about the past… We’ve got bigger things on our hands. You’re right to go.” He said to the patient who got up cautiously, testing his strength on his leg.

“You’ve been working day and night. Have you slept?” Sansa asked worriedly.

“I’m quite fine my lady, Gilly’s been taking good care of me.” He said back cheerfully.

Sansa looked back to the woman with the babe in her arms. Behind her ratty clothing and string like hair she looked beautiful and kind. A perfect match for such a joyful man.

“Is this your son?” she asked him.

“Well… No, not really. But I like to think of him as one.”

“He definitely is milady, been looking after him like his own since he was born.” The woman named Gilly snapped back defensively.

“Gilly…” Samwell cooed.

“Well he’s a beautiful boy,” Sansa, “He’ll be very strong. A winter babe.”

“As Northern as they get.” Sam replied, looking at the boy with a father’s love.

Sansa’s stomach coiled. She had not noticed how the two had looked at each other. It was like what she saw with Gendry and Arya or the suggested looks that Missandei and the Unsullied leader shared on occasion. She had been the one dreaming of marriage to a heroic knight while being the lady of his castle and the mother of his children. Arya never wanted that, everyone who thought they could tame her were awfully wrong. Sansa almost sniggered at the thought of Septa Mordane hunting down the wild wolf girl who rather shoot arrows and ride horses with her brothers than sit in circles and do needlework. But Sansa had been humiliated and beaten, the fantasy of the domesticity wiped clear from her intentions. Just the will to survive had been enough if she had not been sold like a broodmare to Ramsey Bolton who made the boy king look like a child with his attempts of breaking her. But she had come back and so had her siblings, one by one. And now all they had to do was defeat the army of the dead and continue to rebuild their war stricken country.

“We’ll survive this winter,” Sansa assured, “Your boy will see the brightest summer there will ever be.”

 


	14. The Bastard Smith IV

**Gendry**

 

They hadn’t been walking far until they met with a group of wights with a lone Walker charging on an undead horse. They had hardly had time to raise their weapons until they came down on them, screeching like nothing he had ever heard. The memory from beyond the wall setting his heart into an irregular pace. Arya had remained calm, unsheathing the sword while she stood near her brother who did the same.

_Cousins but always brother and sister._

Gendry grabbed his hammer from his back, swinging it around to meet with the first wight that decided to run at him. He had plated his weapon with Valyrian steel and shards of dragonglass to be more of an effect on attacking the wights. The wight he hit, shattered. Its remaining body parts still twitching and Gendry’s stomach rolled. He could hardly see Arya from where he stood until another two wights came at him while he was caught off guard. He managed to parry off their attacks with his hammer, sending them crashing backwards into several others. He kept his head up, looking for any sign of Arya but all he could see was Jon’s steel black armour as he slashed wight after wight to reach the Walker.

“Gendry! Duck!” a voice screamed and he did as he was told, crouching as the steel of Arya’s sword swept above his head and connected with the neck of one of the wights before it managed to attack him. She moved to him, pressing her back against his, her face already smeared with grime and luckily not blood.

He swung his hammer again, bringing it down on three of them as Arya gracefully swirled around down low, slicing the legs off a line of wights, causing them to fall to the ground. They continued their relentless fighting until suddenly they all dropped dead.

“Jon.” He heard her breathe, a smile etched onto her face.

He had killed the Walker and the others killed the stragglers that looked around in supposed panic. The sound of thundering hooves filled their ears and a few men including Jorah Mormont, Beric Dondarrion and other Northern and wilding men. They brought the horses that the group had left before the scaled the forests.

“Was no one lost?” Jon called and everyone looked around.

The sight was gruesome even if it was just littered with the dismembered parts of wights. One man lay on the ground, part of his leg missing and his eyes rolled back into his head. Everyone looked on in silence as Beric unsheathed his flaming sword and lit the corpse on fire. He stood back as everyone bathed in the warmth of the fire. Gendry saw the reflection of the flames in Arya’s eyes, her mouth set in a hard, straight line. He moved towards her, draping an arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the other men.

“What are you thinking about love?” he caressed her cheek with his gloved hand.

She beamed up at him, a small smile escaping her lips and she looked at him lovingly, “Nothing.” But she sighed, letting her body heave, “Thinking about how you nearly…”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, squeezing her to his chest. Her small hands came to rest at his back, “Shhh. Better not to think of things like that, aye?” he cooed as she leant her head against his chest.

“Oi, you two love birds!” Tormund called from the group of huddled men.

Gendry smirked, looking down at the only woman he could ever love as she looked up at him smiling.

“We haven’t finished the bloody war yet!” Jon yelled at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly a rushing sound followed by a loud screech thundered through the air, nearly knocking half the men off their feet. A scorpion had hit the great wight dragon that had been circling the sky while it breathed icy fire on the main flank. The dragon began to drop to ground, landing in a loud thud on the side of the fighting. The men started to cheer, slapping each other on the backs and smiling.

“The Night King will still live!” Jon yelled, “And we must charge forwards!”

Everyone cheered, raising their swords into the air and clambering onto the horses. Gendry took one last look at Arya who punched him lightly on the arm before they both got onto the horse and galloped with the others down to the main flank.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was Daenerys’ dragons that now dominated the sky, breathing fire on the wights which came dangerously close to the living forces. The heat seared at Gendry’s skin as he pressed up against another man to smash through more wights. He was assured by Jon that Arya would be safe but no amount of coaxing would allow Gendry to stop worrying about his beloved. He had slowly inched closer to her, watching her through the corner of her eye until Arya and Jon stopped dead in their tracks.

The Night King stood dangerously at the foot of the fallen dragon, surrounded by several other Walkers as he walked closer and closer to Jon who had his sword ready. They charged at the Walkers and their Winter King as the ring of Valyrian steel hit a harder force of a material Gendry couldn’t comprehend their magical weapons to be made of. Arya had met straight on with a Walker who she danced around, striking in sudden gaps. The Walker parried with great skill and he could see the grimace that had taken place on her grimy face. Suddenly, Arya leant forward and quickly swung back, bringing the sword in both her hands swinging across her body, smashing through the Walker’s untimely defence and slashing him in half. The Walker exploded into ice and some wights around them fell. Jon was fighting another one who he slowly defeated as well.

But Gendry did not see the Walker that had made its way around the group, in the blind spot of his eyes and before he knew what was happening, the Walker bounded towards him and slashed his chest with its ice sword. Gendry winced at the sudden pain, parrying the following attack weakly with his hammer. Arya hadn’t seen him yet and he searched blindly for her with his tearstained eyes. The Walker kept pushing him forward but he was relentless and followed its icy attacks with hard, long strikes with his hammer in return.

He was losing too much blood; there was a large slash in his armour, blood specking the ruined metal and Gendry felt his knees cave in until someone came in with a flaming sword and finished the Walker… His vision was beginning to get hazy as he heard a loud feminine scream of his name come from his side. He looked for her, with his head swimming as he reached out for her and she caught his arms holding him as he slunk to ground.

“Gendry…” she whined, “No please! Gods please!” she screamed.

He reached a hand up to cup her cheek until it fell back to the ground and his world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters coming soon


	15. The King in the North IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on this fic. I have one more POV to go and I will be asking you guys whether or not I should expand this fic into something quite fluffy or write a sequel which will have a major time gap (people will be married, Daenerys will be on the Iron Throne and happy peaceful times) Just let me know in the comments if you have any thoughts or advice! 
> 
> I'm also sorry if the battle between the Night King and Jon was a bit lame, I didn't know how to write it :( but hey, at least I gave it a shot. I'm very curious to see how it plays out in season 8 (get pumped) 
> 
> New chapter will be out soonish. Thank you again everyone, you all make my day.

**Jon**

 

When Jon had heard his sister scream, he was fighting a White Walker with flowing white hair. He’d never heard her make a sound as piercing as that wail, not throughout the years of loss and pain. She had always been the silent type when it came to being knocked down and she’d always get up again. But this was not physical pain she had endured, this was something much worse.

_Gendry._

He ducked around, twisting Longclaw above his head and brought it crashing down on the Walker, hitting him a weak spot and causing him to shatter into dust. But there was no relief when Arya had screamed again and this time it was angry. He looked behind at the fray; the Hound held Arya as she thrashed, tears streaming down her grimy face and Beric Dondarrion shielded the fallen blacksmith against a small onslaught of wights.

_Kill the Night King and this will be over._

Jon moved forward, a pang of hurt stuck in his chest. Arya would never be the same if Gendry was to die but the Baratheon bastard would put up more of fight for life than nearly anyone here. So, he moved forward, towards the Night King with his sword drawn. He started to charge at him, his face taught with rage. Jon’s first strike misses as the Night King ducks to the side, his blue eyes flashing but Jon remained relentless, bring Longclaw smashing down, strike after strike. Suddenly, out of nowhere the Night King conjured a spear like weapon to parry against the steel of Jon’s blade. Each strike rang like a bell of the Great Sept of Baelor as the two Kings slashed at each other. Jon wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him or if there were other Walkers that seemed to have sneaked up on him. But no one came and he gritted his teeth at each hit Longclaw took. The Night King looked unfazed, twirling the great ice weapon dangerously above his head, bringing it crashing down as Jon scarcely managed to avoid the blow.

_For Arya, for Gendry, for Sansa, for Daenerys, for Sam, for Bran, for Tormund, for Edd, for Davos…_

Jon began to strike back, stepping forward and pushing the Night King back.

_For Ygritte, for Grenn and Pyp, for Robb and Rickon, for father, for Lady Catelyn, for Lyanna Stark. Every single damn living soul, this is for you._

Jon pushed through, stabbing his long sword straight ahead and capturing the Night King right in the centre of his black armour. He twisted and pushed the blade until the cold blue eyes were upon him and finally he was obliterated into a million smaller pieces. Soon after, every member of the army of the dead had fallen; the White Walkers exploding and the wights crumbling to the ground.

A cheer sounded off in the distance and the roar of the biggest one of Daenerys dragon sounded the air. He could see his silver haired aunt, riding on his neck. Everyone began to yell in celebration, throwing their weapons high up into the air. Jon turned around dazed, searching for his younger sister whom he had lost sight of in the crowd. But he found her, crouching over the form of Gendry, sobbing her eyes out with a tentative hand caressing his cheek.

“He’s still in there,” The voice of Sandor Clegane sounded behind him, “Poor fool loves your sister too much to die.”

Jon smiled as one of the soldiers offered to pick Gendry up and Arya resisted to smack him in the face.

_They had won._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Most were back in Winterfell not after long, most being treated for their wounds and the dead were being collected.

“What about the fallen ones? What are we going to do?” the brash voice of Lady Mormont sounded through the Great Hall but no one moved to comment.

She had apparently led her few men, charging on a steed much too big for her and some had said she took as many as fifty wights on.

Tormund huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to light the biggest fire this damn fucking world has ever seen.” A few lords that didn’t fight mumbled about graves, “There isn’t going to be any earth left if we bury them all. We’ll need to do it the wilding way.”

“Very well then.” Jon said and everyone had grimly nodded in approval.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

He found Arya in her own bedchambers where she insisted Gendry was to stay while he recovered. The maester had barely managed a few words in until she started uncontrollably sobbing, telling him to go die in a big ditch. Jon luckily, snuck in while she was about to through the poor medic out until the King in the North stopped her.

“Your Grace… I keep telling her… Her love is absolutely fine and he’s just resting.” The older man puffed.

“ _Resting?”_ she spat, “He hasn’t opened his eyes in three days.”

She looked furious and the maester quickly scuttled out the door, trying to escape from her fiery wrath.

“It’s normal Arya… From that much blood loss.” Jon assured her, placing a hand on her forearm.

She looked down at the blacksmith, whose chest rose and fell back down again in a normal pace. His skin had returned to its healthy glow and the small wounds on his face and arms had been reduced to scars. The biggest one though, was covered by a large strip of linen on his bare chest. He then noticed her hand in his, her fingers intertwined tightly with his.

“When he wakes up, he’s going to ask you.” Jon stated calmly.

“Ask me what?” she hissed, not taking her eyes off her lover’s sleeping form.

“To be his lady and help him run Storm’s End.” He said, watching her reaction.

“I’d say yes if it meant I could be with him.” She returned softly.

“You’d be leaving home.” He reminded her.

“I know…” she looked up and sighed, “But being with him makes me feel like I’m at home, wherever we are.”

“Good.” Jon said quietly.

“Do you miss her?” she asked, now looking at him.

Her grey orbs shone with fear and sadness.

“Aye, every day.”

“And Daenerys?” she pressed.

“I’m not cut out to be the King of Westeros. I’m hardly a good King in the North.” He chuckled.

“Gendry told me you know?” she smiled sadly, running her thumb on the smith’s eyebrow, “That father wasn’t really your true father. That you aren’t a bastard, you’re Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. You’re a Targaryen with more claim to the throne than Daenerys does.”

“I don’t want no throne.” He said back sadly.

There was nothing he could do about her knowing about his true heritage. They wouldn’t be hiding anything from each other from now on.

“You’d write to me? From Storm’s End?” he jested, moving closer to muss her hair up.

“I’d travel to Winterfell each year,” She assured him, “I’d bring the children with me too.”

“Children?” Jon scoffed.

“Gendry likes them I guess,” She sighed, shrugging her shoulders, “And who’s a lady without children.”

“Father always said you’d be a lady and marry a lord and have his children.” He teased.

“Well they’d be mine as well and I wouldn’t go a day without training with the sword and riding horses across the Stormlands.”

“I’m going to miss you when you leave.” He said sadly.

“I wouldn’t be seeing you even if I was to stay.” She replied.

And he knew what she meant. That the war was far from over, that there was Cersei Lannister to finish and that she was probably marching her Lion army north right at this moment.

“You should sleep, you’re going to need it if you want to cross a name off your list.”

Arya’s face curled up in confusion and she opened her mouth to speak before he cut her off again.

“Gendry told me you know?”

He smiled and she genuinely gave one back.


	16. The She-Wolf IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for 10 000 hits! I cannot express my grattitude further to the people who constantly comment and support this fic! I have decided to extend this story and then write a very fluffy sequel :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, more to come

**Arya**

 

It had been a week and Gendry had not woken up. The new maester (whom Arya hated less than the previous one) had told her about men who suffered similar wounds and were asleep for close to a moon. But anyhow, Arya was worried.

_When he wakes, he’s going to ask you._

Arya did not need be curious about what subject his question would revolve around. As long as she was involved with the next war with Cersei Lannister _and_ she was the one to kill her, Arya would happily be married to Gendry. Waiting at his bedside allowed her to imagine what life would be like with him; living in a huge castle in a place neither of them knew at all and with lords and common people that had little to no knowledge of their intentions. But Arya knew that she would not be wearing any dresses or braiding her hair like some Southron lady…

“Arya?”

She shot up in her chair and watched the silver haired dragon queen, gracefully stand in the doorway. From what Arya had heard, Daenerys had suffered nothing more than a broken rib and miniscule scars. Still, she radiated a beauty that Arya could never fathom of having.

“Your Grace,” Arya started, rising from the chair but her legs suddenly gave way.

The wounds she had endured were far worse than the Dragon Queen’s; she had several broken ribs, the muscle in leg torn and burns all over her skin from the heat of the dragon’s fire. She hadn’t stood up for the entire week Gendry had been still asleep as she ordered her handmaidens to bring her meals to the room.

“May I ask you of something,” the Queen asked quietly, walking over to the bed.

Arya found Gendry’s hand and held it tightly.

“Of course,” Arya returned, looking up at the violet eyes of Daenerys Targaryen, “What seems to be the matter.”

“Your brother…” she said suddenly, “Well… Your cousin but your brother nevertheless. He is my nephew by blood… By family means. My brother was his father.”

Arya looked away, concealing her disgust. She admired Daenerys but the recent news of Jon’s heritage did not put her and Jon’s relationship in a good position.

“He is disgusted by me.” The Queen sighed.

“He is disgusted by the situation, not of you.” Arya corrected, not really knowing how to comfort her.

“I love him,” She admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb Gendry, “I fear he loves another.”

Arya smiled sadly, “He loved one other yes but she passed.”

“Oh.” Was all she could reply with.

“Talk to him about King’s Landing,” Arya said, touching her forearm, “Talk about how we’re going to defeat Cersei and what happens after that.”

“Ok then.” She sighed, letting her strands of hair cascade down her back.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Jon had somehow convinced her to go out and get some fresh air while he watched Gendry, allowing her to roam the yard of Winterfell aimlessly. The maester said she needed to heal properly before she could consider training again so she ended up watching the stable boys poke sticks at each other, playing knight. Whenever she looked over at the empty forge, her heart felt a pang of hurt as she thought about Gendry still with his eyes closed. So, she distracted herself by thinking about how she would kill Cersei, how she would make her suffer like she had made her family suffer. She thought about how Tyrion had to live with her cruelty or Jaime whom was wrapped around her little finger. She thought about all the people she had betrayed by breaking her vow and how she had hired the Golden Company to fight alongside the Lannister army. Jon, Daenerys and her dragons would crush them still.

“Arya!” Jon’s voice sounded from the ramparts.

Relief dotted his face, his lips curled up in a warm smile and Arya knew what had happened.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She rushed into the room, ignoring the maids who she brushed past in a hurried frenzy. Gendry was shirtless, sitting upright in the bed while the maester reapplied a bandage to his chest. The scar was long and ugly, running from near his heart to the end of his ribcage. She stood at the end of the bed as he stared at her with a delicate smile on his face.

“Lady Arya.” The maester greeted.

She did not respond; her mouth was agape and her limbs refused to move. All she could do was stand idly, watching him look at her.

“You look well m’lady.” He finally sounded and Arya felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

“I thought you…” she stammered, “I thought that thing killed you…”

His stretched his arms out, beckoning for her to come close and she happily slid into his arms, climbing on to the bed with him.

“I’ll leave you then.” The maester winked and packed his materials up.

She caressed his cheek, looking at his ocean eyes as they bore into her own.

“I told you not to think about that.” He said quietly and wrapped her to his chest where she sobbed silently.

He placed a kiss on the crown of her head and let her lean on his chest, her tears wetting his bare flesh.

“You remember when I asked you to smith for my brother?” Arya whispered and she felt him nod, “How I wanted you to be my family?”

“How could I forget?” he said tentatively.

“Well…” she sat up and looked him straight in the eye, “How about if I became your lady and your family?”

He chuckled, “Aren’t you already?”

“No, I mean… _Your_ lady. No one else’s.” she pressed, looking away in embarrassment.

His eyes widened, “ _My_ lady?”

“Yes Gendry.” She snapped, getting annoyed.

“I’d be the happiest man in Westeros if you were _my_ lady,” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, “Only if being _my_ lady meant being my wife.”

“Yes, stupid that’s what I mean. She giggled and nearly crushed him with her embrace.

She leant up and kissed him, “I love you Gendry.”

He smiled at her, “I love _you_ Arya.”

She looked at the door and smirked, “Now all you have to do is tell Jon you’re marrying me.”

Gendry groaned, “Seven Hells.”


	17. The Lady of Winterfell V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon have a conversation about Gendry and Arya. But Gendry's found out something that Arya did not want him to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it sounds like there's going to be a lot of angst between Arya and Gendry but fear not because I love them so much, they won't be separated for too long ;) And Tormund is the purest soul, I'm going to cry if he dies.

**Sansa**

 

Sansa stood on the ramparts, analysing the activity of the yard. All the stable boys who chased each other rather than work, a few men were duelling with wooden swords with the barking voice of Brienne of Tarth loudly sounding the air. And the forge, it burned as bright as the sky did when Daenerys’ dragons lit the wights on fire. She could hear the clanking of metal from where she stood, the sound cutting the frigid air. Thanks to the Heroes of the Dawn (as they were named by the common people), this winter would only be a short one. But the battles were far from over; the army had to regroup, ready to go to King’s Landing.

Suddenly, she felt a figure move beside her. _Arya._ The dark-haired warrior wolf who was the walking ghost of Lyanna Stark. A comparison that Sansa had little knowledge about.

“How are you going to kill Cersei?” she asked her sister, a question that was left to a larger imagination.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone’s going to mind how she dies as long as she ends up dead.” Arya replied, her gaze settled on the forge.

“And what does he have to say about that?” Sansa asked curiously, turning to face her sister.

Arya flushed, not removing her gaze, “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Arya Stark, you know very well who I’m talking about.” Sansa hissed.

“Jon’s sending him down to Storm’s End soon. To gather the favour of the Lords of the Stormlands.” She said back quietly.

“But?”

“But, as soon as Gendry hears this he’ll object. He’s so bullheaded…”

“You don’t want him to see you kill Cersei.”

“I’m going to be a Faceless man that day,” Arya confessed, her head dropping low, “I don’t ever want him to see me like that.”

“I understand,” Sansa said back coldly, “I didn’t want Jon or you knowing what Joffrey did to me. Or Ramsey…”

“But we’re your family, it’s different _Sansa_.”

“How is it different _Arya_?”

“I asked him to be my family years ago but he said I’d be his lady.”

“And that was years ago. What of it now?”

“He asked me.” Arya sighed, defeated.

“Marriage?” Sansa’s eyes widened as her sister nodded, “And what did you say?”

“What do you think?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sansa was never spared from council meetings discussing the method of attack on King’s Landing. She gathered her skirts as she walked the stairs to the Council Room where she would join Jon’s most trusted allies. Even before she got the door she could hear loud bickering, mostly that of the red-haired wilding named Tormund and Sandor Clegane who did not get along very well.

She opened the door and walked in, the noise stopping abruptly as she moved to the table to take her place next to Arya. Gendry was nowhere to be seen. Jon had his head in between his hands and everyone else looked on edge.

“Did I happen to miss anything?” she leaned in to whisper to Arya, whose face was set in stone.

“Jon told Gendry that he was to go Storm’s End while the rest of us go to King’s Landing. How well do you think that went? So then Gendry told Jon, in front of everyone that he was going to marry me, Jon didn’t care but then he told him what I was going to do to kill Cersei.” Arya said back, not concealing the volume of her words.

“The faces?” Sansa asked.

“Yes Sansa, the faces.” Arya hissed back, looking murderously at Jon.

“Where is he now?” Sansa inquired and Arya’s face contorted.

“Probably riding South thanks to our brother’s big mouth!” Arya yelled, sitting up.

“He wouldn’t leave you m’lady.” Brienne assured her softly.

“Arya... What does he have in the South? If he had to leave you, he'd start a war.” Sansa agreed. 

“You see why they call that little fucker a bull?” Sandor told Tormund who was chuckling.

“Hey now, he loves his lady. Us men north of the wall would rip the bloody head of the man that refused em’. Brother of his woman or not.” Tormund said cheekily, winking at Brienne who rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got no time for this.” Jon groaned.

Arya stabbed a knife into the table, shutting everyone up immediately.

“Oh, you have plenty of time to have others organise your own well-being but as soon as you mess up mine, you want no part of it.” She seethed, her knuckles going white where she held the blade.

She got up and stormed out the room, slamming the door violently behind her. Tormund chuckled again and Brienne punched him hard in the face until he dropped unconscious.

“What is going on?” Sansa sighed.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When everyone had left, Sansa walked up to Jon.

“She hates me.” He concluded solemnly.

“At this moment, yes.” Sansa agreed, sitting down beside him.

“And he loves her?”

“As much as she loves him.”

“They’re lucky that they’re marriage will be politically beneficial.” Jon grunted.

“Is that all your thinking about? Have you considered the fact that Arya actually wants to get married in the first place?” Sansa asked, her tone becoming colder.

“I’m sorry Sansa, was it the fact that I haven’t seen her in what, 5 years?” Jon retorted, “I don’t know anything about her, she’s changed so much…”

“She hasn’t changed at all. She’s still Arya Stark, the girl who likes run away from Septa Mordane, never wear dresses and never wanted to marry a lord and mother his children.” Sansa said.

“Then what the hell is she doing?” Jon questioned, his eyes flashing with anger and confusion.

“She fell in love Jon. Like you did, like Brienne and Jaime did. Like Lyanna and Rhaegar did.”

She watched her brother study her with a sad smile on his face.

“You’ll find someone who will love and treat you properly Sans.” Jon assured her, but Sansa Stark was much further past imagining happy endings.

“But it’s not about me and it’s definitely not about you. For once, it’s about Arya and Gendry,” she sighed and looked at the fireplace, “Even though she told everyone otherwise, Arya is a woman. Yes, she’s been through things that we both can never comprehend but she’s still our sister. We both there is no man more perfect for Arya than Gendry. You already gave him his lordship as a gift of gratitude.”

“He’s probably spitting on it at this moment.” Jon murmured.

“Arya told me he was born in Flea Bottom, he had nothing. Try and understand Jon, he has nothing else but Arya. A lordship means nothing to him if she isn’t involved.”

“And what if Arya doesn’t want to be a lady?” Jon tested her.

“Then he’d throw the title back in your face and they’d go work something else out.” Sansa smiled weakly.

Jon went silent, pondering his own thoughts until he raised his head to look at her.

“Well come on then, we have a wedding to plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters are on their way!


	18. The Bastard Smith V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry takes the day off from Arya but he's met with a confronting situation when he cannot seem to find her.

**Gendry**

 

He stormed to the forge because there was truly no-where else to go. It’d honestly be the first place anyone would look but he didn’t care, he wasn’t in the talking mood. His mind swirled with rage and hurt, questioning why Jon had said those things and why Arya hadn’t. Was it that she still didn’t trust him? Anyhow, Gendry pushed the thoughts out of his head and put on his apron to start working. He wouldn’t listen to her, not today and probably not tomorrow. He started to hammer on some leftover steel, not really having an objective in mind, he just wanted the ringing of steel to flood the air and rid him of his thoughts.

For once, Gendry felt betrayed by Arya, a contrast to the guilt he had felt since he decided to stay with the Brotherhood. He was always careful to remind himself that, no matter what words she spoke to reassure him that she was fine with the outcome. Because he was not fine with the outcome if she couldn’t trust him. He didn’t even hear the whole thing about the faces and the Frey’s because he had stormed out. She would have called him bull-headed for that. But she was the stupid one for lying to him.

Luckily, Arya left him alone that night which was surprisingly unlike her, recalling that they had slept in the same bed ever since he informally asked her to marry him. He was furious beyond belief but it didn’t snuffle the flame of desire he had for her, by the time the moon was high up in the night sky, he began to miss her badly. The absence of her body beside him made him shiver as he slipped under the furs of his mattress in the forge.

_Arya went to Braavos. Arya became an assassin. Arya became a Faceless Man. Arya became No One._

He screwed up his face and shifted his body around, curling under the covers. Faces? What faces? How much more confused did she want him to be? He didn’t understand this foreign property of changing one’s face. It sounded like a terrible ordeal and it was the last thing he wanted to hear Arya doing while he was rowing his boat and keeping away from the Goldcloaks in King’s Landing. He closed his eyes and forced himself into a fitful slumber, restless without his wild wolf girl. A girl he apparently knew very little about.

_She’s changed._

The dreams he usually had about Arya made him smile in his sleep but this time a nightmare erupted his slumber. It frightened him when he jolted awake, sweat clinging to his brow and his arms reaching out for a warmth he realised was not there.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He ruefully tugged on his cloak, trudging his way to the Great Keep. He couldn’t sleep out here, it was way too cold for a Southerner like him to be sleeping in that draughty forge without the warmth of someone else. He thought of his bedroom and the warm featherbed with the piles furs and the crackling fire to keep him warm. Then he saw Arya in the covers, bare-chested, blush dusting her cheeks. Her dark hair tousled and her pink lips wet…

He shook the thought out of his head and made his way to her room, chastising himself that he couldn’t keep away from her for one day. He chuckled as he turned the door to her chambers expecting to see the sleeping form of his beloved underneath the furs of her own bed. He walked into the room silently, looking around at the empty expanse of her spacious room. Her bed was empty which wasn’t a surprise, maybe she didn’t want to lie in the place he did when he was resting from his wound.

He made his way to his own chambers which were also empty and he began to get worried.

_Jon? What about Sansa?_

Gendry made his way to Sansa’s room, tapping lightly on the door until it opened almost instantly. A red faced, tear stained face peered back at him. The red of her hair was a mess, much the opposite of the firm Lady of Winterfell he often saw roaming the grounds of Winterfell.

“Where is she?” he asked firmly and she shook her head, sobbing.

“Gods, Jon and I have looked everywhere. The Godswood, your forge, all the rooms in the keep…”

Loud footsteps echoed the corridor and Jon Snow walked up to the pair with a mirrored face of sorrow.

“Her horse…” he panted, “It’s gone.”

Gendry took off without a plan in his head. He didn’t know her home, he didn’t know where in Seven Hells she could have gone off to but he knew he had to try.

“I’m coming with you.” Jon announced, walking up to speed with the fiery blacksmith.

He didn’t reply, all he could think about was Arya and how she did something stupid again.

_Because you hurt her again._

No, he reminded himself that it was she who had hurt him.

“You’re angry at her.” Jon added as they made their way to the stable.

“I’ve got every right to be.” Gendry replied coldly.

“You have to understand Gendry, she didn’t want you to know because she was trying to hide her past.”

“Fuck that! What have I ever done to her not to get the truth? I’ve told her everything!” he yelled, stopping in front a chestnut mare that Arya had given to him.

“You love her.” Jon stated.

“Aye, I love your sister but if she loved me back, we wouldn’t be having to do this.”

“Don’t be a fool Gendry.” Jon hissed at him, “Don’t you dare deny that she loves you. She wouldn’t get this upset over nothing.”

“She’s a hot-headed person, if anyone got annoyed at her she’d do the same damn thing.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong Gendry, she only does _this_ when someone she loves is angry at her. She’s done it once before, when she broke my bow when she was nine and I cracked a storm at her.”

Gendry went silent, stroking the mane of the steed, thinking about how Arya was probably someplace as far as Winter Town.

“Have you ever known Arya to turn down from a fight?” Jon aske, cocking his head.

“She’s scared.” Gendry concluded and Jon chuckled.

“Aye, she’s scared because she’s thinks she’s lost you.”

Gendry frowned, tightening the girth of the saddle and tossing the reins over the horse’s head.

“Well then, we better find her before she decides to ride to Dorne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters on their way!


	19. The King in the North V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Gendry go to find Arya. What they find however, is far from normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey, sorry my updates are so irregular. I've been sitting on this for a while and I just got sick so all motivation just got thrown out the window. This is quite rushed and definitely not proof read so expect some low quality angsty fluff. Hope you lovelys are all doing great and thank you for the wonderful support! xxx

**Jon**

 

 

 

It was pitch black by the time they left Winterfell’s gates, the piercing red eyes of Ghost and the torches were their only sources of light. Gendry, who had only ridden a horse on a few separate occasions, galloped ahead of Jon who yelled in protest. They had both consoled the advice of Bran who admitted that his visions could be used alongside his returning ability to express emotion to his siblings. But they couldn’t get much information of out of him, the oldest Stark boy had just drooped his head and muttered something about her not being too far from them.

“Gendry!” Jon yelled as he struggled to keep up with the smith, “Slow down! Bran said she wasn’t far!”

It was a few moments before Gendry finally slowed his horse and Jon trotted up to him, shaking his head while chuckling softly.

“If my sister saw you now, she’d probably punch you in the face for being so bull-headed.” Jon sighed, catching his breath from all his suppressed laughter.

“I could throttle _your_ sister.” Gendry spat angrily.

“Gendry… Imagine what you did by leaving her all those years ago.” Jon reminded him but the new Baratheon lord scoffed loudly in response.

“And I spent every year after that mourning her because I thought she was dead,” his voice was getting louder every passing second, “And what was she doing? Prancing around in Braavos, changing… You know what? I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“She thought you dead as well Gendry, you heard her.” Jon said, observing the King’s Road they travelled on.

“Should I really be trusting a single word she says?” he hissed back, “Cause’ I’m really starting to doubt _your_ dear sister.”

“You don’t want to wed her now?” Jon asked, his tone becoming serious.

Gendry stared out onto the road, watching the white direwolf trot along with their horses.

“That’s why I’m hurt by this. She wants to get married, she’s even okay with being a lady. And she’s lied to me. I just don’t get it,” he sighed, palming his face with a gloved hand, “And she’s missing and she could be in trouble… Fuck!”

“I don’t think she’ll be in trouble, knowing her…”

Jon stopped mid-sentence, looking around into the darkness.

“What is it?” Gendry hissed but Jon hand up in silence.

“Listen.”

And they both did, hearing the sound of distant cursing.

“Arya…” Gendry started, pushing his horse forward into gallop and this time Jon followed.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was only a few more minutes until it started to rain heavily, the fats drops of liquid brushed their faces as they rode faster towards the sounds. Jon peered over at Gendry’s face which looked pained and angry at the same time. But that look had vanished when they both heard more voices, only because they were those of a man’s.

“Stop the horses, we’ll go on foot from here.” Jon hissed and Gendry silently obeyed.

After tying their horses to a bear tree, they discarded their torches and sought after the sounds, their boots scrunched the frosted ground unforgivingly and they both cringed at the sound it made. Soon, after a dew treads they could start to hear a conversation between two gruff voices.

“Look what we have here. What’s a pretty lass such as yourself doing out here so late at night?”

“Touch me and I’ll slit your fat throat.”  A girl’s voice responded.

It was distinctly Arya’s, the bite to her tone only belonged to one girl in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Feisty one, aren’t ya? Come ‘ere, just want to give ya a nice fucking.”

In the darkness, they could still see the man lunging for the Arya who was casted in the shadows. She ducked agilely to the side, turning around him before kicking his back squarely. The force sent the man tumbling to the ground.

“Arya!” Gendry yelled in fright and the girl looked up in surprise, not being able to see him.

But the blow hadn’t seemed to knock the man quite unconscious as he got up again, his eyes glowing angrily. Her gaze ripped from looking around in the shadows.

“Why you lil’…” he rushed at her again and this time she let him, foot-sweeping him when he got too close. She didn’t spare a second; turning around to unsheathe her dagger and held it up against his throat.

Jon was relieved at her own strength, walking up with Gendry to her who held the man ruthlessly at knifepoint but something wasn’t right.

The bloodlust that resided in his sister’s eyes was far from natural.

“What did I say?” she sneered at the man who could only whimper in response.

“I said, touch me and I’ll slit your fat fucking throat.” She continued and the both of them stood still in shock.

She angled the tip of her blade at his Adam’s apple before cruelly smiling again.

“Valar Morghulis.”

She slit the man’s throat, ear from ear, letting him drop like a limp doll.

“Arya…” he heard the tentative voice of Gendry call.

She seemed to hear he him clearly now, seeing his figure in the shadows as she looked down at the man who lay in a pool of his blood.

“Gendry…”

She couldn’t let out another word as Gendry had wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair, her face, her lips and every other place he could reach.

“Gods, why are you so stupid?” he rocked her and she started to sob.

Jon stared at the two in shock. Arya Stark, his baby sister who wanted nothing to do with a man’s notion of marrying her was crying in the arms of a man that promised her such. And then he finally realised why she had agreed to marry him; because he treated her like the wolf she was. Gendry knew that she couldn’t be tamed, and he’d never try and tame a beast as wild as Arya Stark. But he’d still make her everything she wished against; a lady, a wife, a possible mother…

“Jon?” Arya called out in surprise, not letting go of her beloved.

“Hey little one,” Jon cooed, ruffling her hair, “Next time you do this, I’ll drag you back by a strand of your hair. And no one’s going to stop me.”

She chuckled at that and let Gendry help her up so she could embrace her brother.

“What would I do without my two favourite men?” she sighed and Jon let out a hearty laugh.

“Quite well little sister. For one, you wouldn’t be slamming doors and running away if you hadn’t accidentally promised yourself to this boy.” He chuckled, motioning to Gendry.

“ _Man,”_ she corrected, prodding him in the arm, “And the decision was much mine as it was his.”

Gendry smiled lovingly at her, almost forgetting the initial reason why he was angry at her. But Jon saw the look that took over the smith’s face after a few moments of pondering.

“If I’m going to Storm’s End, you’re coming with me.” He said seriously.

“I’m going to King’s Landing remember stupid?” she smiled but it was not returned.

“You’re not going to King’s Landing Arya,” Jon agreed, “You need to make yourself known with the Stormland lords.”

“Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that for me Jon fucking Snow?” she growled furiously, “You promised me…”

“Yes, I promised you and now I’m breaking it. Wouldn’t want displease your soon to be _Lord Husband.”_ He hissed back at mockingly.

“I can’t believe this!” she yelled before locking her fiery gaze at Gendry, “You convinced him didn’t you? I can’t believe you, you stupid bull-headed bastard boy!”

“Quite the opposite milady, your brother came up with the proposition.” He teased her.

He knew how to play this game, thought Jon.

Jon rolled his eyes, “Where’s your horse Arya?”

She turned to face her brother, “I don’t know where that damned horse is. Stupid thing bucked me off again.”

Jon and Gendry shared a chuckle and she looked like she was about to murder her _two favourite men._

“Come you can ride with your beloved,” Jon mocked and she nearly growled with rage but reluctantly let Gendry push her up into the front of the saddle of his horse before sliding in behind her.  

Jon peered over at the two of them and supressed a snigger, watching Gendry tease her as she crossed her arms firmly over her chest and looked away.

“I’m still angry at you, you know that right?” Gendry whispered, loud enough for Jon to hear.

“What a surprise, I am too. Enjoy a cold bed tonight Gendry.” She hissed back.

The smith leaned over and kissed her on the shoulder.

“Gods, not even married to you and I’m already in the kennels.”

“Shut up, you stupid oaf.” She spat and he only laughed in response.

“You won’t sleep in your room Arya, everyone in the keep knows that.” Jon murmured, feeling like he did not belong in this conversation.

“I’d rather sleep in the Godswood naked than be in the same fucking room as this one.”

Gendry snorted at her, rolling his eyes as he urged the horse forward.

“You silly wolf.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters on their way.


	20. The She-Wolf V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I think I nearly made myself cry with this one, please don't kill me but I am one angsty person! Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, this one is for LorraineP and Wright, thank you for your never ending support on this fic (and very good news, i am 2500 words into the first chapter of the sequel :)

**Arya**

 

 

Arya Stark may have been promised to the Bull but she was probably one of the most stubborn people she knew. Keeping true to her word, she did not go back to Gendry’s chambers that night and she had punched him in the face when he mocked her about her room ‘haunting’ her. She had hated the way he knew it was true, Arya did not want to be in that room. It reminded her of the time so recent when she thought he was going to die. _But he didn’t_. She would have beaten him to the pulp if Jon and Sansa hadn’t come along, basically restraining her with the full extent of their strength to keep Arya from flying at Gendry, ready to smash his head open with a book. And all that stupid bull did was laugh, like a complete madman. It was all she could do not to wring his neck with both her hands. But when she had calmed down, Jon stupidly let go of her and she ran up to the blacksmith, slapped him square in the face and let him know with her eyes that she was not joking around. And the look he had given her in return was no less furious to the point she swore he nearly snarled at her. The boy had stopped laughing at her and the man was now serious.

“You’re still the one who lied to me Arya.” He had growled and she scoffed in response.

“How is it a lie when you didn’t even want to know the truth?” she hissed back, Jon and Sansa safely leaving before the two burnt the keep down with their fiery glares at each other.

“You’re the one who left!” she snapped, “I told you could be my family and you just threw it away!”

“Seven Hells Arya! We were children! What was I supposed to do in Riverrun? Beat metal for your brother and watch you marry some lord with a stick up his arse?” he yelled in return.

“I wouldn’t have ever married! And you were my friend, you wouldn’t have just been _serving_ my brother! Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”

“Arya don’t even start, you know this is different.” He looked away with a very pissed off look on his face.

“Why did you really come to Winterfell Gendry? Was it because you thought Jon would legitimise you and make you a lord? Because I am really starting to think…”

“For fuck’s sake Arya! I had been moping around for the last six years, thinking that you died! I went to Winterfell because it was your home! I wanted to serve the brother that you always loved, make it up to you somehow. If I had stayed in King’s Landing for another day, I would have gone mad from the grief.”

“Well you really fucked that up now.” She snarled and he returned his gaze back to her but something about it was different.

He looked hurt, betrayed even. Like a child who had his favourite toy taken away from him and tossed in the fire. But he wasn’t about to cry, no he was about to explode. Fiery and hot, his Baratheon eyes simmered with rage. For the first time, Arya admitted she was intimidated.

“Did you even think about me once in Braavos? Or was a I dead man to you? Too busy fooling around with that red-haired cunt, hm Arya? Did I hit the spot Arya?”

And with that she started to cry, big ugly tears that spilled down her red face but his face didn’t budge, his anger relentless.

“Sometimes I wonder why I even cared. Spent those years looking for you and mourning you, I don’t think I spent them right. I could have found a nice wife and a small house and I wouldn’t have to worry about all these highborn cunts fucking around with titles and lands and who should marry who. Wouldn’t have to worry about who my father was and who your father was and who your brother is. It’s exhausting! It’s been exhausting since the day I knew who you really were. I’m tired Arya!”

She turned around and walked back to her room, feeling his eyes burn holes in the back of her skull.

“Going to run away again Arya? Gods be good, you’ll take a ship to Braavos and I promise you I won’t look for you again.” He mocked and the tears welled uncontrollably.

She kept walking until she reached the end of the hallway and stopped, still feeling the fumes of their anger in the air.

“Winterfell is my home, and I came back,” She stated emotionlessly, not caring about the words that followed, “The ride to the Stormlands is a long one my lord, I advise you leave at dawn.”

And she left, not even going to her own room that night, she headed to the Godswood, past the place where they had fallen into the snow but to the place where she and Bran had sat when he told her Gendry was in love with her.

He had slammed the door of his chamber at her comment, not responding and making any indicator that he’d even heard her. And that’s where she lay, on the snowy floor of the Godswood as she cried as much pain and tears than she ever in her entire life. She didn’t care if they could hear her wails in Dorne, but she knew everyone in the keep would be raising heads at the sounds, thinking it was a lone wolf howling on this cold night.

It wasn’t long after that when she felt his presence standing several feet away from her, like a wolf sneaking up on an injured lamb. She could feel his eyes on her but he didn’t move from where was standing, remaining like that for a few minutes.

“Why?” he asked solemnly, his voice no longer filled with any notable emotion. 

That Arya Stark would have snapped back, called him stupid, punched him or given him a weird look. But this Arya Stark had her head on the cold floor of the Godswood, her face stained red by tears and her hair dishevelled. She knew what he was asking about. About what she refused to tell him.

“The thought was appealing,” she replied, not moving a muscle but her jaw for talking, “Being no one was preferable to facing reality. Everyone had gone… I didn’t have a will to fight for anymore.” She replied quietly. 

“So the Faceless Men?”

“Yes, the Faceless Men. They told me to throw Arya Stark away and become No One. And so I did for a while, I went blind when I took a name that wasn’t mine to take.”

She felt him stiffen at her comment, moving his feet uncomfortably.

“I learnt to lie until I couldn’t lie to myself anymore, lie to them, to the Many Faced God.”

“But what changed?”

“It was a desire to go home. To find my pack, to start avenging my family and…”

“To start crossing names of your list.” He answered for her, lightness in his words.

“To start being myself again.” She corrected.

_Her list could be damned right now._

They fell into silence again until she saw him moving towards her.

“How hard was that?” he asked, his voice growing with affection.

“Very.” She admitted.

He sat down beside her, fidgeting with a stick he found on the ground.

“I’m so sorry Arya. I shouldn’t have said those words to you,” he offered, not moving to touch her even though he is painfully close.

“I’m sorry too.” She responded and this time he looks at her.

“I’m going to marry you here,” He says to her, almost too quietly, “Man and wife. I don’t think you know how long I have dreamt of this.”

She hears him unclip his cloak and lay it around her, resting his back against the heart tree in nothing more than a thin jerkin.

“Because wherever you go Arya Stark, I go too. If you want to go across the Narrow Sea to as far as Qarth, I will follow you. Because you love, you are my forest lass and I’m your forest love.”

“There’ll be no featherbed for us.” Arya added, feeling his arm come to sider to caress her.

“Aye,” and she sat up, “Don’t cry anymore please, I don’t want anymore secrets between us.” He pleaded and she gives him a sad smile.

“And there’ll be none.”

“Good.” He finished, leaning back against the tree.

And she looks at him, really looks at his fine face under the moonlight. How well carved his jaw is, the bushiness of his eyebrows and piercing stare of his eyes. The bastard boy was dead and here was the Lord of Storm’s End, the son of the late King.

 _Hers,_ she thought.

As much as she was _his._


	21. The Lady of Winterfell VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry finally get to do what they wanted to do for a long time and Sansa is very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about my lateness! Exams are coming up and I'm busy trying not to die. But hope you guys enjoy a chapter because I can actually now use the smut tag to my advantage for the next chapter! So stick around, hopefully will be getting that one up before the week finishes. :)

**Sansa**

 

It was a cold morning in the Godswood even though the few people who came out adorned heavy cloaks of furs and leathers. Brienne, Jaime, Podrick and Tyrion stood to one side, Bronn leant against a tree, Gendry stood by Bran’s chair who was sitting directly in front of the heart tree. Missandei and Grey Worm were next to Daenerys who had a sad smile on her lips but stood pointly . Tormund was inching his way towards Brienne with a devious smirk on his face but Sandor pulled him back before anything happened. Besides, even the Hound knew that this day had nothing to do with any of them; in the eyes of Cersei Lannister, this was to be a union between a Stark and a Baratheon that Robert wanted all those years ago. To everyone else, whose lives had been put on the line for the greater cause of protecting the realm and its people, it was a union between two people whose love exceled all odds.

It had only been a few nights before that Sansa stumbled across a chest under the bed of an unoccupied chamber. The initials _LS_ scratched on the top in terrible handwriting. _Much like Arya’s…_ But when Sansa looked inside the chest, she was shocked beyond words. Dresses, made of silk, satin, wool. There were breeches as well, good quality leather ones and a couple of clean tunics. But what caught Sansa’s eye was the beautiful blue gown adorned with Myrish lace and lined with furs. The cut of the dress itself was very lowcut, something that Arya Stark would never wear but this was the day that she was _expected_ to look good. Even though it might just be for one night. To be honest, it looked like something Daenerys Targaryen would wear if she was a Northerner. But these belonged to Lyanna Stark, who birthed a Targaeryn and Stark child. Who was as much as a lady as Arya was. And all Arya had in difference was whom she loved. Lyanna could have never loved Robert. No one could have ever loved Robert Baratheon. Gendry however, shared no such connection with him, spare for the dreamy blue eyes and night dark hair.

_“Gendry would start drooling over you in this.” Sansa had said to Arya who curled up her nose in disgust._

_“He wouldn’t drool.” She insisted, toying with the fabric, “Looks like if I wore this it would fly away.”_

_“No, he’d just have a tied tongue for the entire night. And he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_“Daenerys said that you find fabric like this in Essos. Rhaegar probably got Lyanna this. Imagine Arya, continuing her She-Wolf legacy.”_

_“I’m not eloping with a Targaryen prince. I’m marrying a Baratheon lord, I’m going to Storm’s End. Ser Davos said I’ll like it, similar to Winterfell.”_

_“You’re going to be his lady.” Sansa sighed, shattering her cold shell, “My baby sister has a lord.”_

_“There hasn’t been a time where I haven’t been his lady. I just needed to work that out for myself.” Arya distracted herself._

_“You don’t feel worthy of the dress?” Sansa called, adhering to her sister’s weird behaviour._

_“It’s so… Beautiful. Like it’s meant for a Princess.”_

_“Your brother is the King in the North. I think that makes us both princesses.” Sansa giggled._

_Arya just rolled her eyes._

_“For Lyanna Stark’s legacy.” Arya agreed and held the dress, inspecting the fabric._

_“For Arya Stark’s legacy. They’ll sing sweet songs of your love. The Bull and the She-Wolf, or the Wild Lady and her Bastard Smith?” Sansa jested._

_“My bastard smith.”_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sansa was broken out of thoughts when the chatter of the people around her died and were replaced with repetitive ‘oh’s’. But as soon as she saw Arya in Lyanna Stark’s beautiful blue, low cut dress, she couldn’t help but think her wild sister was a real epitome of a Northern beauty. Sansa looked at Gendry with a smirk and she couldn’t say she was disappointed with the sight. The blacksmith couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked to the heart tree with Jon on her arm. Gendry stood unmoving as she came closer and closer until she stood before Bran. Sansa couldn’t contain her smiles.

“Who comes before the Old Gods?” Bran’s cold voice cut the frost in the afternoon air.

“Arya Stark of House Stark.” She said, looking at Gendry.

“And who gives her?”

“King Jon Snow, King in the North.” Jon replied.

Jon led her up to Bran and gave a kiss to her forehead, looking into her eyes sweetly before Arya took her place besides Gendry.

 “And who comes to claim her?” Bran continued.

“Gendry Baratheon of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End.”

Sansa wheeled Bran closer to the couple and smiled sweetly at her sister.

“Arya Stark, do you take this man?”

“I take this man.”

“Lord Gendry, you may cloak the bride under your protection.”

Gendry fumbled with the cloak, “I don’t think she needs my protection.” He mumbled and the small crowd chortled with laughter.

He places the cloak over Arya’s shoulders as she looked up to him with a big smile on her face.

“Under the presence of the Old Gods and the New, I pronounce you both married…”

Arya was never one to wait, practically throwing herself at Gendry as they both kissed passionately and the crowd clapped in celebration.

“Feast!” Tormund roared and the band of ale-craving males rushed back to towards the keep.

Sansa rolled her eyes at their immaturity but couldn’t quite keep her gaze from her younger sister who was wrapped up in Gendry’s arms, pressing her forehead to his. They both had their eyes closed as they swayed in the wind, a small dance for only them. The bull and the wolf were always meant to be together. _Love_. _She got what Mother and Father got._

“Sansa?” a voice called out.

It was Jon, there was a slight frown on his face when he approached her.

“Look at them brother, how happy do they seem. Like my mother and _our_ father.” She said looking at him as he smiled softly.

“Good to hear you still think so Sans.” He replied, almost letting the breeze steal his words.

“Of course he was, he raised you and I know my mother and I were terribly cruel to you…”

“I told you before, don’t dwell on the past. We have to focus on the future, _our_ future.” He said looking back at the couple who were now chasing each other in the snow because Arya shoved snow down Gendry’s tunic, “Gods, I hope they don’t burn Storm’s End down.”

“Lucky we won’t be there to witness it.” Sansa chuckled as she saw Gendry finally catch her and throw her over his shoulder.

“My dress! You stupid bull, I didn’t wear any pants under it!” they heard Arya scream as she battered his rock solid chest.

He just laughed and walked up to Jon and her, smiling with his blue eyes, “How fortunate.”

“Congratulations you two!” Sansa smiled, placing a soft hand on Gendry’s forearm.

“Thank you, Sansa and thank you Jon. Couldn’t have made it this far without the both of you.”

“You’re not going to last very long if you don’t put me down right now stupid!” Arya growled but the siblings and her husband just laughed.

“Arya, Gendry has your dress covered. We swear to the Old Gods nobody can see a thing.” Sansa assured her sister, supressing a wicked grin.

“That’s because he wants the excuse to touch my arse!” she yelled back and squealed as he dropped her in the snow.

“Well that’s because you’re a pain in _my_ arse.” Gendry teased and she tried to kick him.

“Arya don’t you dare ruin that dress or Sansa is really gonna kick _your_ arse.” Jon jested, joining in with the fun.

“Argh! I hate all of you!” she moaned, lying in the snow, giving up.

“Come now _wife_ , everyone will be waiting for us.” Gendry mocked and helped her up.

“I’m not talking to you, _husband_.” She hissed and stormed off.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He grinned and started to chase after her, tickling her and her laughter filled the yard.

“The poor Stormlanders.” Sansa sighed in amusement but couldn't help but let her heart fill with joy for the love her sister found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters on their way!


	22. The Bastard Smith VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry witnesses his first Northern wedding while his wife gets a little bit too drunk.

**Gendry**

 

 

The Great Hall lost its shrouding demeanour and its walls echoed with the laughter and music of a Northern wedding. Wars and houses were once again forgotten in the bottom of a tankard of ale as even the King Slayer drank and sang with the proud Northern lords who were too drunk to care the man was a Lannister. On the high table sat Jon, Bran, Sansa Daenerys, Tyrion and the married couple who could hardly keep their hands off each other. But even the silver haired Dragon Queen was too busy laughing and drinking her own fill of ale to pay much attention to how handsy the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End were getting. Gendry enjoyed this new side to Northern culture. He had only known and heard about their solemn looks and cold weather not the fact that they could drown themselves in ale equivalent to the water in the Narrow Sea. Gendry didn’t want to drink too much but he could already feel himself getting a tiny bit tipsy but his little she-wolf wife however was basically drinking for the both of them. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was flailing from her loose braid. And she was laughing, Gods, her laugh sounded like an angel had come to take him to the Seventh Hell because that’s where he was going if she found out he was staring at her like a fool in love. Well that’s really what he was, a complete fool of a bull who fell for a warrior of a wolf.

The dress she was wearing didn’t help the problem because every time he looked at his beloved wife, her dress would be riding lower and lower, exposing the creamy white of her bosom. And he found himself pulling her dress up too many times, looking around angrily at any certain men whose eyes were wondering too low on their Lady’s dress.

“Ah lad! Relax let them cunts look! Just relax and have a drink!” the hearty voice of the sellsword named Bronn called out as he took a dark-haired serving girl in his lap.

“Yeah Gendry, why are you so grumpy?” Arya slurred, gripping his thigh with enough force he nearly yelped, “Didn’t I please you enough last night?”

_Oh Seven Hells you did love._

 

 

_Gendry remember bringing her back to the forge that night after he found her in the Godswood, not caring a single bit as he carried her over his shoulder across the yard in the pitch black dark. He wanted her, all of her not just the chaste kisses and the ‘I love you’s’. He was intoxicated by her and her smell and the way her curves filled out her tight-fitting tunics. It was the years alone when he would dream of her as a woman grown and wake up to a call bed and only his hand to satisfy himself. But now Arya Stark was here, in his arms (whether that was involuntarily or not) with her skin hot. He entered the forge and shut the door firmly, locking it and ignoring her little angry squeals._

_“You’re so stupid! Put me down now!” she yelled and was just about done with her._

_He slapped her arse, hard and the sound resonated through the whole small room._

_“You didn’t just do that?” she yelled, thrashing under his arms._

_He turned and threw her on his cot looking down at her angrily._

_“Oh yes I just did m’lady.” He smirked evilly, climbing over her._

_She wrapped her hands around his neck and brought her lips crashing on his. She was scratching at the laces of his jerkin in frustration and he smiled knowingly, getting out of it for her, sliding out of his breeches and moving down to her own tunic and breeches that she hurried to get out of. Hey both clawed at each other’s clothing until they were both left in their smallclothes, panting furiously._

_“Couldn’t wait till our wedding night, could you?” she teased, caressing his face as he stared at her._

_“Shut up.” He hissed with a smile, leaning down to kiss her again._

_He moved to her jaw, to her neck where he left his own collection of marks that would let any other perfumed lord that Arya Stark was his and then he moved to valley of her breasts, sliding a hand over one rosy bud and taking another in his mouth._

_“Oh Gendry,” Arya breathed and he smirked as she moaned again._

_“You have very nice tits m’lady.” He grinned and she tried to swat him._

_“They’re small.” She whined, playing with his hair while he sucked and played with her breasts._

_“They’re perfect,” he corrected, leaning back up to kiss her, “You’re perfect, love.”_

_And he moved down until he reached the edge of her small clothes and ripped them off, breathing over her sex…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gendry went red and looked at Bronn whose face he could literally punch.

“Well m’lord, I wouldn’t say anything that you and your lady do is very… _Traditional._ So I’ll be taking my leave with my own pretty lady.” He smirked at the girl in his arms and pushed her away with him.

“Mind not telling the entire hall we fucked last night.” Gendry hissed in Arya’s ear playfully, tickling her side to make her giggle loudly.

“Can’t help it _m’lord,_ you were just too good,” she slid up and sat on his lap, facing him, “I haven’t stopped thinking about what you’re going to do to me tonight…”

 

 

_He leaned down and licked the whole entire length of her and she tossed violently, throwing her head back, “Oh Gods Gendry, please.”_

_“Are you going to come for me Arya?” he asked slyly, nestling his mouth back into her folds, allowing his tongue to travel lazily._

_She bit her lip and writhed, moaning unintelligently. And then she came, spiralling down from her high and wrapping her legs around his waist._

_“I want you Gendry Baratheon.” She whispered with a smile on her lips._

_So he stripped his own smallclothes and positioned himself at her entrance, looking down at her, “Are you sure Arya?”_

_She bit her lip and nodded sweetly. He pushed into her slowly, watching her face contort with discomfort, tears welling in her eyes and he stopped, furious at himself for hurting her. He kissed every inch of her he could find but he couldn’t face her._

_“It’s okay, please keep going,” He heard her say and he cupped her face in his hands and pushed up inside her again. “I’m fine.”_

_He gradually quickened his pace, thrusting right into her sweet spot until she cried out in pleasure…_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“My lady, my lord.” A voice called and they both turned around, dissembling from their intimate position.

Tyrion Lannister looked at them with a smug look on his face, motioning to a burly man behind him.

“Allow me to introduce Lord Buckler of Bronzegate brought here with the invitation of his Grace, King Jon.”

The man bowed but Gendry got up to receive and shake the hand of the guest.

“Thank you, Lord Buckler for your swift arrival. I hope the journey was not too tiring.” Gendry recited, trying to sound as lordly as he possibly could.

“Ah you look much like your father my lord, better yet.” The man said cheerfully, “Is this your pretty wife? My she looks like…”

“Like Lyanna Stark yes, I get it.” Arya said, rolling her eyes.

“My apologies my lady, but your husband’s father would have lived to see this day. A union between a Baratheon and a Stark. A good match if you ask me, a wolf and a stag…”

‘He’s a bull.” She snapped.

“Thank you Lord Buckler, I believe we’ll be very happy in the Stormlands,” cutting on Arya’s brash behaviour, “I apologise for my wife, she’s had a bit too much to drink..”

“Nonsense my lord, if every woman was like your wife I believe this world would be a better place,” he laughed heartily, “My lady, could I possibly invite you to dance?”

“It’d be a pleasure my lord.” she turned around and stuck her tongue out at Gendry as Lord Buckler led her to floor to dance.

“Gods.” He sighed, sulkily watching his wife dance awkwardly with the Stormlander.

“How’s married life?” Tyrion asked him, refusing a serving girl who came with wine.

“You don’t drink? I thought you were the Imp! You’re meant to be able to drink the sea’s worth of wine and fuck…” Gendry started

“And yes, fuck all the whores in Westeros but unfortunately your dear daddy beat me at my own game, now shall we drink to sorrow that is my loss?” Tyrion replied sarcastically, “I drink enough, being the Hand of the Queen has certain responsibilities…”

“Have you ever married?” Gendry asked, looking down at the halfman with a cocked eyebrow.

“Two times. One for love, one for Gods’ know what.” He sighed, finally picking up a cup and bringing it to his lips, “Poor girls, both of them. One’s even in this bloody room.”

Gendry scanned the hall looking around at any highborn lady that was currently free from marriage…

“Sansa Stark?” he nearly yelled.

“Poor match, a terrible match. You and the Stark girl however…” Tyrion tipped his goblet in the direction of Arya who was walking back up to Gendry.

“Gennnnnndry,” she drawled, practically falling into his arms, “We have to—We have to dance to…”

“I think it’d be best if we didn’t call the bedding, get her to her room and let her rest I think.” Tyrion urged.

“I think she better call it a night.” He corrected and leant Arya against his shoulder, leading her away from the throng of equally drunk people.

“I’ll let his Grace know,” came the voice of Jorah Mormont, eyeing the disarray of Arya Stark, “I doubt many will notice.”

“Thank you Ser! You’re such a big help!” Arya said cheerfully but Gendry walked her down the hallway until they got to her, well their chambers.

He lay her down on their featherbed, chuckling as he remembered their conversation from the few nights before about featherbeds and forest loves.

“Gendry?” she called, groping blindly for him.

“What’s wrong love?” he came to her side, a tad bit nervous.

“Why aren’t we fucking?” she whined, trying to pull him closer to her.

“Because you’re drunk m’lady.” He chuckled, brushing the hair out of her face.

“But the bedding… Traditions…” she started to slur, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck traditions, I’m not fucking you while you’re so drunk. You’ll probably fall asleep…”

“Shhh! If you don’t want to bed me then at least let me sleep.”

He let out a laugh of amusement.

“Seems like there is a featherbed for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters coming soon.


	23. The King in the North/The She-Wolf VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Gendry both know that Arya's drinking was the result of something more sinister. But being her favourite two people in the world, they know how to make her feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I haven't posted for so long, exams are stupid! also I couldn't actually figure out how to play this chapter out. so for the first time, I've kind of melded a Jon and Arya perspective together and next chapter will still be Arya. Though, I assure you guys will get more information on what's happening Jon/Daenerys wise in the chapters to come. Just to remind you guys, this is a Gendry/Arya centric fic and all I can say atm is that I don't want Jon and Dany to end up together which is why I removed their tag because hey, I wanted to be different to every other post canon fic out there because it's my story. And plus, I'm not really a big fan of them anymore (mostly because of the kit/emilia shipping bullshit that's been going on, like for fuck's sake he's going to get married). Let's just say, Jonny boy is still missing his girl kissed by fire or something like that! :)
> 
> Thank you so much for the support on this fic, it means the world to me! Hope you enjoy lovelies!

**Jon**

 

The feast had ended well into the night, the bards and the singing resonating down every hall of the Great Keep. Jon had enjoyed himself well enough, drinking enough ale to dull his senses and eating his own fill of the rich Northern food they had lacked for years. The news of a wedding had brought the Northerners together, only because it was in the North and not in some place like the Twins where their last king had been slaughtered like a lamb. Still, he could tell Arya was on edge. From the excessive drinking to her unusual clinging to her new husband, Jon knew his sister well enough to know that something was not right. He walked down the hallways carefully, his ears searching for a sound that indicated the new couple’s busyness. But as much as he strained for sound, even after he stood outside their chambers which were once Arya’s in her childhood, there was not a noise to be heard. And at that, the door opened slowly and out poked Gendry who had a pensive look on his face and wearing a ruffled tunic.

“Bedding?” Jon cocked an eyebrow playfully watching the smith go bright red at the sight of his wife’s half-brother turned cousin.

“Something ain’t right wit’ her.” Gendry whispered, beckoning Jon to enter their chambers.

Jon obliged and followed his good-brother, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. He could see Arya in their featherbed, writhing like a dying horse and Jon immediately rushed to her side, brushing the hair out of her face.

“She’s having a nightmare, hasn’t had one for a moon now. Not since the war ended.” Gendry stated, keeping his voice low and looking at his wife sadly.

“The war isn’t done yet.” Jon said coldly, leaning up when she stilled.

“Aye, and you’re gonna keep her away from it.” Gendry chuckled.

“If I let her, you’d find it in your power to stop her as well.”

“Wouldn’t get too far,” Gendry scoffed, folding his big arms, “She’ll stab me in my sleep.”

“She wouldn’t give you the luxury.” Jon jested, feeling grateful that Arya had chosen a good man to wed, “She bosses the Bull around?”

Gendry let out a hearty laugh, “Been doing it since we were on the road as kids. No one else though, couldn’t say no to m’lady.”

Jon laughed as well, “How hasn’t she killed you for all that mockery?”

“Seven Hells if I know.” The bull snorted.

“You love her though?” Jon questioned the man.

“Gods, of course.” Gendry replied, nearly rolling his eyes.

“You’re both leaving though.” Jon stated.

“Aye, there hasn’t been a place like Winterfell that I’d be okay with calling home,” He looked down at Arya lovingly, “But home is where the heart is and my heart is with your little sister your Grace.”

“They’re already singing songs about you two down South, it’s cold enough for Arya to love and warm enough for your Southron bullocks not to be frozen clean off.” Jon sighed, moving away from his sleeping sister and letting the two be together.

Gendry gave him a small smile and crouched down near Arya’s head to caress her sweat-lined face.

“Last wedding she went to, her family was murdered,” Jon said sadly, “Tis’ probably why she drank herself to near death.”

“Her mother and father weren’t there also. Heard her muttering their names. Ned Stark was a good man, we’d barely met and he was willing to protect me, “go smith in Winterfell”, he said. He must be fuming up there that I with his daughter.” The smith sighed.

“Her mother would take one look at your bastard arse and have you shoed out the castle with a broom.” Jon chuckled.

“She didn’t like you much?” Gendry looked up, his fingers didn’t leave Arya’s face.

“Not a bit, I was just the son of a woman she thought her husband fucked during some war. Pity it was that way but what could she do?” Jon leaned against the door, “Might not be a bastard now but I was raised one Gendry, never forget that. We’re brothers now, family has to stick together.”

“Aye.” Gendry replied, looking down at Arya again, grinning.

“I’ll leave you two then.” Jon concluded, and went out the door, shutting it quietly.

Jon sighed in relief; he was glad that Gendry and he had such a good relationship. He could say they were possibly brothers before he wedded Arya, their way about wrangling the little she-wolf, their mutual bastard problems, even their fears. Gendry reminded him of Robb in a different way. Robb had been weak, a green boy who was his mother’s son. Gendry was strong and independent, closed off and indefinitely brooding unless Arya made an appearance. But Robb never treated him like an outsider, he always felt like a brother with him. And he felt safe knowing that Arya was with someone who shared the same level of will to love and protect her. They both recognised that she was the last person who needed saving but they still vowed to look after her, in their own ways.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Arya**

 

 

Arya woke with a jolt, groping the bed sheets wildly but coming up with nothing but the coldness of an empty bed. She grimaced at the thudding pain in her head from too much wine. _To dull my senses,_ she reminded herself. _But this isn’t the Red Wedding, this is your wedding to the man you love, in your home_. But all the times she tried to convince herself otherwise, the flooding memories of Grey Wind’s last whimper as he was brutally slain and how he head was mounted on her brother’s body. Her mother’s throat slit open, her body dumped in a river. She’d heard about Robb’s wife, the fact she had been with babe and they stabbed her in the belly like they were hunting a boar.

She grabbed the sheets and curled them in her fists, Gendry’s absence only making her feel even smaller as she sunk to the bottom of her fears again. She was shaking violently as she wept into their bed sheets and their furs. The thin shift that covered her scrawny body became wet with tears. She realised she hadn’t once cried about her family’s death, not even at the scene or after nightmares had woken her up about it before. But the memories of bards and drinking and Ghost at Jon’s feet made her feel like screaming. She didn’t want to bother Gendry with her problem with the wedding, she’d wished she had conveyed her desire of a small ceremony and small dinner with her family instead of a big thunderous Northern wedding. Gods, Gendry and her hadn’t even bedded on their wedding night…

She let the last of her tears shed from her eyes and sat, scrunched up in a ball. _A girl is Arya Stark, a girl is not no one. A girl is the wife of Gendry Baratheon, the future mother of his children, the Lady of his keep_. _And a girl loves him, a girl feels at home with him, a girl feels whole with the bull._ The fact that she _wanted_ to bear his children and wake up with him each morning even though the domestic lifestyle would make her throw up in any other given circumstance was only because he was Gendry and she was his Arya.

“Arry?” a voice called out so softly that Arya nearly passed it for the gentle winds outside their windows.

Gendry snuck through the door, his tunic ruffled and his beard unkempt, “What’s wrong love?”

Arya curled up tighter on the bed, hiding her face from him. She didn’t want him to see her all tear-stained and miserable on their wedding night. No, that’s not what he deserved.

Gendry came up to her, stroking her wet hair out from under her chin and pushing it over her ear. He didn’t make any other sound as she began to involuntarily weep again. Soon she felt him leave and take his boots off, climbing into the bed and pulling her gently with him.

“Come ere’ love, I’ve got you.” He cooed, kissing her hair and her forehead repetitively, wiping the tears from her eyes with his giant thumb.

She climbed into his lap with her back facing his strong chest and he wrapped his arms around her middle.

“I’m… I’m sorry Gendry, this isn’t what was meant to happen on our wedding night.” She stammered, clutching the damp cloth of his tunic weakly with her fingers.

He scoffed, “Arya I would happily bed you any other day and I will be a happy man. Today doesn’t have to be that day m’love, and I understand but I’m here, I’m always going to be here.” He assured her and she couldn’t help but sob more loudly.

“Shhh. Please don’t cry, I don’t want to see you cry my wolf. My beautiful she-wolf wife.” He said, nuzzling his nose into her hair, rocking her back and forth until she quietened down a little bit.

“I miss them,” she wailed and she held him tighter, “My own father didn’t give me to you, my mother didn’t weep nor my brother hug me or say I look like a horse...”

“You wouldn’t be marrying me if they were there Arya. You’d be with a Frey boy, bearing his scrawny children. Or you’d be murdered and I wouldn’t be able to live or breathe or eat. I’m lost without you Arya, I thank the Gods each day for you. It’s okay to miss them love, but they’re watching down on you, probably ready to cuff me.” He chuckled and she let a small smile take over her lips.

“I will always be yours, you know that right Arya? And you’ll always be mine and that’s how we’re going to play this game until we’re old and grey with plenty of kids runnin’ around…”

“Oi!” she swatted him, beaming this time.

“I know you never wanted this life _m’lady_ ” he mocked, dodging another attack, “But I know I want this life with you and you only.”

“Good.” She said happily, stroking his strong forearms, strengthened by the years in the forge, “Good.”

He held her tighter from behind, kissing her under her ear-lobe.

“Now m’lord, I think we forgot one thing.” Arya grinned, wiping her eyes.

“And what would that be m’lady?” he questioned, cocking his brow with a mischievous grin that was anything but serious.

“The bedding of course.” She smiled, feeling much better.

“Ah yes, I remember now. I guess we should get onto that then.” He jested, reaching down to trace her ear with his tongue, “Only if you want to.”

“You’re still a stupid bull.” She poked her tongue out at him and he caught her face in his hands, kissing her lips passionately.

“ _Your_ stupid bull. That makes you a _stupid_ wolf for marrying me.” He joked back and took his tunic off.

“Oh yes, very stupid.” She mocked, reaching down to unlace his breeches.


	24. The She-Wolf VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya sobers up and has a lovely time with her new husband. The discussion afterwards however, leaves her a little torn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but here's chapter 24! I would like to thank you all for the amazing support on this fic and I have loved writing it. I have a lot more planned for this story so buckle your seat belts! Anyway, drop a comment or a kudos to absolutely make my day and I hope you guys enjoy this.

**Arya**

As soon as he entered her, she gasped out in pleasure, throwing her head back and feeling his strong arms come around her hips as she began to tentatively ride him.

“Gods, yes Arya!” he groaned.

She enjoyed this new power she had over Gendry as she bounced up and down on his cock. This position stretched her walls almost painfully and she struggled to sink into him without causing discomfort but when he started to thrust back up into her, all her worries turned to dust. The moans coming from her lips sounded primal, like she was a wolf howling at the full moon with Gendry, her mate, slick underneath her.

“ _Gendry.”_ Arya whined as he continued to hit her sweet spot.

She had been told by Braavosi whores what riding a man felt like and how to do it but their words couldn’t do the real thing justice. Gendry was a large man in all places and she was tiny so fitting _that_ inside her seemed to be the work of the Gods. But for how strong and large he was, the Bull was extremely gentle with her. Not in the way that it made her feel like a fragile doll but just so, that she was content in the warmth of his massive arms while he fucked her like a madman.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they had finished, Arya crumpled back onto the mattress, feeling Gendry’s hand enclose around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She leant up to kiss him sweetly slow and he returned the lazy embrace by slipping his tongue in her mouth.

“Gods, you really thought we were going to have tonight without a bedding. You sweet Southron child.” She chuckled but he pinched her nose in retaliation.

“Who you are calling a child, you little thing?” he ticked her mercilessly and she giggled.

“No, you’re too big and stupid to be a child.” She mocked.

“Do I have to remind you _dear wife,_ that if I’m stupid you are as well.” He smirked.

“Stop reminding me, you stupid bull, just kiss me.” She tried to shut him up by smashing her lips on his but cheekily he moved away, holding her chin in his large hand.

“Have I told you that you look so beautiful tonight, my stupid wolf?” he grinned down at her.

“Only a couple hundred times.” She responded, smiling at him.

“Gods, I love you,” He sighed, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, “You’re an absolute pain in my arse, but I love you.”

“The best pain in the arse.” She reminded him, placing a palm on his chest, right above his heart.

“The best.” He gave a loving smile and kissed her forehead, “So, about kids…”

She punched him in the ribs and Gendry winced but smirked all the same, keeping his iron hard grip on her waist.

“You do realise that you got married to the Lord of Storm’s End, they’re going to expect a few little tykes in the next few years.” He grinned, holding her wrists, “To _further_ and _secure_ the Baratheon line?”

“We had the near end of the world and that’s what people are still bitching about? Seven Hells!” Arya cursed, her forehead crinkling, “Fuck securing anything, I just want to get Daenerys on the throne and you inside me.”

“Hey, would a few little ones with me be that bad?” Gendry cocked an eyebrow, caressing her face.

“No… I mean I wouldn’t mind having… Especially with you… I mean imagine little Gendry’s running around… But I’m too young!” she groaned, sitting up and out of Gendry’s hold.

“I’m just teasing you Arya, Storm’s End isn’t ours until Daenerys gets the Iron Throne,” he murmured, his blue eyes piercing the darkness of the chamber, “Jon and the Dragon Queen had a chat with me while you were resting.”

“But what about Lord Buckler?” Arya asked, trying to recall the hazy memories of the night, “I thought he was there

“All the Stormlands Houses have agreed to support Daenerys’ claim. Out of fear for her dragons or hatred of Cersei and what she did to my father? I don’t know, but we will be housed by Lord Buckler at Bronzegate until Storm’s End is secured. There we’ll be able to acquaint ourselves with the people of the Stormlands so they don’t revolt against us when we become Lord and Lady Baratheon.”

“Secured? I thought Storm’s End was abandoned after Renly died.” She questioned, turning to face him and run a hand through his hair.

“Cersei has some prissy lord living there and once King’s Landing is reclaimed by Daenerys, we can help by securing the South.”

“So, we’re not going to King’s Landing?” Arya growled.

“Ha! Not in a million years am I letting you into another battle, Jon heavily agrees.” Gendry scoffed, leaning up on his elbow.

“Since when did I agree to let you tell me what to do? I married you, I didn’t sign a bloody contract so you can keep me in a room somewhere while you go fight.”

“Who said I was fighting?” he hissed back, “I am not leaving you.”

“Jon will not stuff away one of his greatest fighters away in _Bronzegate_ , while there’s a fucking siege going on.” Arya started to raise her voice.

“Arya, we are not discussing this now. I am in no mood to argue with you.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“And I’m in no mood to listen to you.” She yelled back, crossing her arms around her naked chest.

“It’s nearly morning, would you please shut up and let me sleep?” He looked her with pleading eyes.

She sighed in defeat and curled back into their bed, resuming their position of close proximity.

“You really don’t take no as an answer, do you?” he chuckled and kissed her nose.

“Well I can’t help it when you say stupid things.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s for our safety,” He returned, looking down at her, “I nearly lost you if you don’t remember.”

“ _I_ nearly lost _you._ And don’t be fearing for my safety Gendry, I went a long time without anyone’s _protection_.”

“Everyone thought you were dead stupid,” He muttered into her hair, falling asleep, “And you weren’t anyone’s wife then.”

“I get it, you stupid bull. But I’m here now.” She smiled, tucking further into his side.

“Good, and so am I.”

The words were barely audible but Arya’s heart warmed either way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Sansa VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa sees off her sister and Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He.. He.. Whoops. Guess who's terrible at updating especially when she has free time (currently in Bali, whoop whoop). Really sorry for the wait but here is the new chapter, I'll get my head in the game and new ones should be out more consistently now (hopefully, not quoting me on that) anyways enjoy! pop a comment because that always makes my day and kudos pls!! thank you so much for the support.

********

 

Sansa and Arya watched the yard from the ramparts like they did only a few moons before, waiting for their brother’s return. As the winter winds whipped at their hair and the snow settled on their clothes, the two sisters stood in comfortable silence until Sansa faced her younger sister with tears in her eyes.

“You’re leaving us.”

“I know,” Arya responded sadly, not meeting her eyes, “But we’ll be back.”

“I know.” Sansa echoed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Arya turned to her and smiled sadly before jumping into her arms.

“I remember how much I didn’t want to get married. How much you wanted to.” Arya sighed, chuckling.

“I recall you threatening to kill the said man.” Sansa replied, giggling into her brown hair.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, if Gendry fucks up I will have no hesitation to stab him full of holes.”

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“Don’t, he loves it.”

“Like he loves you.” Sansa concluded sadly.

“One day, you’re going to meet someone wonderful and they are going to fill your life with joy…”

“Oh Arya, you of all people don’t need to tell me that. I’ll be fine,” Sansa snorted, “I’ve tasted marriage and I don’t want any part of it.”

“But you haven’t loved… Or been loved.” Arya insisted.

“I’ve learnt that I need to love my family first before anything. I’m barely twenty and something, my day will come sweet sister. Enjoy the _rest_ of your days.” Sansa confirmed, smirking.

“If Gendry thinks I’ll be holed up in a castle for the _rest_ of my days then he can find a new wife.” Arya huffed and she let out a loud laugh.

“Gods I’m going to miss you.” Sansa said quietly.

“I’ll miss you too, sweet sister.”

Sansa threw her head back and laughed, “Already talking like a married woman, are we?”

“Oh, shut up idiot!”

“You should probably take that back.” The voice of their half-brother turned cousin sounded behind them.

“Especially before Gendry hears it.”

“Make sure you come back with the little tykes Arya.” Jon jested and Sansa saw her sister’s face turn an explosive red.

“Gods, did someone tell you how annoying you are?” she screeched and Sansa threw her head back in laughter.

“They were probably praying to the Gods that the inhumane sounds coming from the Winterfell forge would stop.” Another voice added to the choir of bickering siblings.

“Bran, crass japes are usually Tyrion Lannister’s forte.” Arya retaliated.

The youngest Stark scoffed, “I think deep down, the old Three Eyed Raven had a terrible sense of humour. But it will always be better than yours, _sweet_ sister”

“So you’re finally Brandon Stark again?” Sansa asked, experimentally.

“I guess. The main objective of the Three Eyed Raven was to help mankind defeat the Night King. I still see visions of past and present but I can assure you my siblings, I am Brandon Stark.”

“Go apologise to Meera then, you useless sod!” Sansa hit him, lightly on the shoulder.

“Meera who?” Arya cocked an eyebrow mockingly and Bran rolled his eyes.

“Come on Lady Baratheon, a certain bull husband is probably waiting for you.”

“Three Eyed Raven no longer, you’re still a twat.” Arya spat.

“Come on Bran, a simple apology wouldn’t hurt.” Jon smiled, doing his best to ignore Arya’s almost too defensive response.

The girl was practically looking over the battlements to her husband every five seconds, twiddling her thumbs in frustration.

“I don’t think Meera will ever forgive me.” The boy said sadly and looked down at his lap.

Suddenly, Sansa saw a change in her sister’s face as she leant down to meet Bran at eye level.

“Someone I loved left me a long time ago,” she whispered and soon all her siblings were watching her, “But he came back and I married him. If I can forgive someone for that, I think Meera will, whoever this mysterious girl is.”

Sansa grinned and Jon snorted, looking over the yard probably looking for Gendry to kill with his eyes.

“You think so?” Bran asked hesitantly.

“Oh, I know so.” Arya winked and left the dumbfounded trio to themselves.

“By all Seven Gods and the Old ones too…” Sansa started, shaking her head and laughing, “That girl is going to be the death of us.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gendry was checking the girth of his horse when she approached him. The smith turned Baratheon lord had a dull look on his face as he concentrated on the pesky leather strap.

“Gendry, may I have a word.” She called and the blue-eyed man looked up at her in fright.

“Gods, you scared the living daylight out of me.” He laughed nervously, finishing the buckle on the girth before standing before her, “Yeah sure my lady, is anything wrong?”

“We’re family now Gendry, call me Sansa,” she smiled when the man’s cheeks went red, “I’m worried about Arya actually. Well I’m never not worried about that girl but I think you know what I mean. She’s not one for orders even if they’re made by kings or brothers.”

“Or husbands.” Gendry snorted, “But yeah, I understand.”

“But do you?’ she sounded and the smith just scowled.

“I don’t care how much she wants to be in that battle, it’s dangerous enough going to Bronzegate. But she’s not going to on my watch.”

“You’re not going to be able to stop her.” Sansa admitted and Gendry looked away with a sigh.

“I spent a whole year with her, listening to her recite that list of people she wanted to kill. Cersei was second and I kept thinking that one day she’s going to actually do it. But I’ve met others who have a better right to that honour.” He replied, startling her.

“Who, if I may ask?”

“You, for starters.” He offered, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m not a killer.”

“I heard about Ramsey Bolton.” He cocked his head to side almost teasingly.

“Did you hear about the things he did to me Gendry?”

“Yes, and that cunt deserved to die a hundred more deaths but that doesn’t matter. I don’t think she has that right.”

Sansa could see the building anger that resided in icy blue eyes. She could see why Arya was so attracted to him.

“You’re my good sister… And well, you’re Arya’s sister and I love her more than life itself.”

“I’m glad that you feel the same way.” Sansa smiled genuinely, “Please just try and keep her from doing something stupid.”

He grinned and placed a warm hand on her upper arm, “We both know that no one can but make sure you tell Jon that I will.”

Sansa laughed out loud, “Of course Gendry, safe travels.”

“Thank you Sansa.”

“Stop terrorising my husband, sweet sister. That’s my job.” Arya called from across the yard.

“She was actually being much nicer than you’ll ever be.” Gendry snorted, trapping the small Stark girl in his arms.

Sansa couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh shut up idiot, everyone from here to bloody Dorne knows you love me more.” She snorted back and hit his arm when he kissed her nose.

“Well that obviously isn’t far enough, I’d expect at least to Quarth.” He jested, prodding her cheek.

“You’re such a big idiot. Sansa, is my idiot husband annoying you?”

“Hardly.” She replied without breaking a sweat.

“Seems to me, I’m your big idiot.” Gendry leaned in, tugging her braid.

“Ugh, do I have to spend months with you on the road to get to Kings—Bronzegate.” Arya slipped and Sansa’s eyes slithered.

“Where did you say Arya?”

“Bronzegate of course,” the girl scoffed, tugging herself closer to Gendry who bore the same expression, “Why would I want to go to King’s Landing when I have my lovely husband to explore the Stormlands with?”

“Because we both know you too well.” Gendry said, his tone was nothing but serious.

“I thought we talked about it, my bull?” Arya whined, making Sansa cringe.

Gendry just laughed at her, “Don’t try to sweet talk me love, we both know how well that goes for you.”

“You’re stupid and I hate you.” Arya admitted loudly, detaching herself from him and storming off.

“How do you deal with her?” Sansa sighed, exhausted from the confrontation.

“Recently, I’ve been throwing her over my shoulder. It doesn’t shut her up but she can’t run away or hit me as much.” The smith grinned, looking over to Arya and winking at her, “But again, she gets to deal with me and that’s not pretty.”

“I couldn’t imagine.” Sansa said smiling.

“We’ll see you soon.”

“I expect I will, hopefully with a bigger party.” She winked and he went beet red.

“Well… We’ll see m’lady, I mean Sansa.”

The Lady of Winterfell just chuckled and let her stammering good brother engulf her in a shaking hug.


	26. Gendry VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya are on their way to Bronzegate but what's up with Arya's mood?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm terrible at posting so rip. 
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter. It may seem like a generic conclusion but trust me, I intend to make everyone (including myself) sob. The road is not going to be easy.
> 
> Thank you so much for the support, I've just started year 11 and I just had my birthday so things are crazy and chapters are going to be all over the place.  
> Laters :)

Gendry

They had been riding for a week until they came across Lannister stragglers who were making their way up North. Many of them had hideous burns that marred their bodies and faces from what he assumed was from the wildfire explosion of the Great Sept of Baelor. Gendry remembered when he had heard the noise like an earthquake rippling through the street, people starting to scream and run in panic until someone yelled, _wildfire!_ And everything was self-explanatory. A lioness wouldn’t let a sparrow hop around in her den for too long. But a lioness in a dragon’s nest was complete different story. Jon who was to travel with them to Bronzegate to secure the Stormlands as allies of House Stark and Targaryen under Daenerys’ steed. He decided to spare the soldiers instead of the chopping block and sent them up North with a small Northern entourage because hells, if Arya Stark, Jon Snow and the Hound were in one party, any enemy was fucked for a league. Gendry observed Jon who sat brooding his saddle as the party got smaller and smaller. There was a certain sadness he hadn’t realised the King in the North possessed and he couldn’t place where it could have come from.

_He’s been lied to all this time._

Gendry shook his head and cleared his thoughts, looking over to his wife sitting silently on her horse. She had been in a glum mood since they left and even when the Hound spat ugly insults at her like normal, she said little in retaliation. They hadn’t talked much since her slip up for her intentions to go to King’s Landing and the only contact they shared was at night, both curled up in their sleeping rugs more habitually than for any other reason. But he missed her touch, her snappy words and real energy of a woman fit for war. Right now, in her quiet state she almost seemed depressed and _guilty._ Because they both knew that Arya Stark couldn’t keep a damn thing away from him.

They decided to stop in a clearing that looked safe enough for the small party to set up camp and Gendry took a minute to observe the members of the entourage. There was obviously his love and Jon, Sandor and Lord Buckler who was officially escorting them down to Bronzegate along with a few of his close men. Gendry liked the older man because he had a wicked sense of humour and a fondness for his own labour skill as a blacksmith. _Being common makes a man stronger,_ Lord Buckler had said when he came to the Winterfell forge. He remembered Arya sitting on the workbench twisting her dagger in between her fingers smiling at him. _Yet he’s still stupid,_ she had said, sitting there in his tunic that covered the soot marks on her breasts. He had been smiling like a fool the entire time, proud that his wife was sitting so elegantly like a queen while she toyed with an item of death right in front of Lord Buckler.

“Gendry?” her small voice called.

He hadn’t realised that the sun had gone down and everyone was roasting rabbits by the fire.

“You alright love?” he turned to face her, letting her enfold into his arms naturally.

“Sorry I haven’t been talkative recently.” She apologised against his chest but he kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t apologise Arya, you miss your home. It’s understandable.” He assured her but she wasn’t completely satisfied.

“My home is with you though.” She looked up puzzled.

“Aye, but darling, that’s where you grew up. It’ll always be your home.”

He smiled at her in the darkness and soon she was smiling too. Weakly but still smiling.

“I’m worried bout’ you.” He stated and she scoffed.

“You’re always worried about me.”

“I know, but there’s something you’re not telling me. I thought we said…”

“No secrets between us,” she cut him off, cupping his stubble covered jaw, “I know Gendry, but there is no secret.”

He huffed, not believing her one bit and looked the other way, thinking to himself, _what else could it bloody be?_

“Are you feeling alright then? Not feeling sick are you?” he asked, looking down again.

She looked terrifyingly cold for a Northerner and he wrapped his cloak tight around her. His own warmth could be damned right now.

“A little bit nauseous but maybe that’s because I’m nervous. And I’m sore at night but you massaging my back does wonders.”

“You don’t get nervous Arya.” Gendry commented.

“I do when it’s not about a fight. I’m nervous for the future.”

“You know how to do lordly things Arya, you’re not nervous.”

His mind raced a thousand miles an hour. _Nausea? Back pain. Sullen mood…_

“When did you last bleed Arya?” he quickly asked and she almost looked offended.

“Two months ago… I’m not sure, right after when that stupid bitch stabbed me, I stopped having my moon blood altogether. It’s been irregular since. I mean why are you asking me now, you stupid bull?” she spat and he closed his eyes.

“Love… I think you may be with child.” He stuttered and he saw her eyes go twice their normal size in the darkness.

“What?” she spat.

“Think about it. You’ve felt nauseous and sore in the back. And don’t think I didn’t see you not eating last night, I was too close to sitting on you and forcing food down your throat. And you haven’t been talking moon tea Arya, and well… I’ve been spilling inside you.” He managed to croak out the last sentence with the confidence of a maiden boy.

“But… I thought I couldn’t have… Children.” She looked shocked beyond belief.

“There’s a village near by, we can stage as a common married couple and ask for a maester.” He proposed and she nodded in agreement weakly.

“I’ll let Jon know you’re not feeling well.” Gendry told her, shedding his cloak and wrapping it tighter around her before moving off.

She caught his wrist before he got too far and stared timidly in his eyes.

“Gendry… if I am… Do you want it?” she asked and he nearly doubled over in shock.

“What kind of stupid question is that, of course I want a baby with you.” He smiled softly at her and she sighed with relief.

“Good… Good, I’m glad.”

He smiled at her once more until going off to find Jon.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The King in the North was hard to find because, well how was one to put it politely, Snow’s wardrobe still resembled his Night’s Watch days. He dressed like a man would for a funeral, not that anyone minded. Arya would have clouted the back of his head and told him that it was easier to hide bloodstains or something macabre like that. But Gendry did find him, pouring over a scroll beside the fire with his brows furrowed.

“From the Queen?” Gendry asked and the man looked up at him with a smile on his face.

“Cersei actually, the one she sent ages ago. Asking me to bend the bloody knee.”

“How tragic for her.” Gendry joked and the two friends laughed.

“You treating my sister well?” Jon queried and Gendry let out a chuckle.

“Well I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Jon scoffed, “I was meaning to ask you something though.”

“Go ahead, we’re brothers now.”

“Arya’s not well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed as well.” Gendry said softly and Jon’s expression dropped.

“She’s been a bit quiet but that’s it. Sick, you think?”

“I think she needs a maester.” Gendry subtly suggested.

He didn’t need to get killed by his wife’s brother right now.

“What are you implying?”

“That she needs a maester.” Gendry returned stubbornly, “We can go to the town nearby, the one we heard. Wear our tunics and dirty up our faces a little bit.”

“Alright, but she’ll be okay right?” Jon asked worriedly.

“She’s your sister. We both know she will be.”

“And you? She’s your wife.” Jon prompted and Gendry felt his cheeks go red.

“There isn’t a moment when I’m not worried about her.” He told his good brother, truthfully.

“I know, I just needed the assurance. Take the Hound to the outskirts so you have back up.”

“I will, thanks Jon.”

“Make sure you find out what’s going on.”

“We’ll try.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sandor, Arya and him sneaked through the foliage towards the lights of the village. The sun hadn’t gone down for long and it was winter meaning that it couldn’t be too late. The sounds from the inn were loud enough to hide their appearances but the Hound, with such a prominent face, couldn’t be stalking around any village anytime soon.

“You well, love?” he called to Arya who was busy sticking an extra dagger in her boot.

“Fine.” She responded bluntly and the Hound chuckled.

“If it’s what I think it is, then we aren’t going to have a happy King in the North.”

“Oh, shut up you shit,” she hissed, “Stop being such a pain in the arse. I happen to want one mind you. I’d like to see the children from all the women you charmed into bed with that lovely face of yours.”

“Watch your tongue, wolf bitch.” He growled but Gendry wasn’t having it.

“Watch your throat Hound, that’s my wife you’re speaking to.”

“Oh, my apologies whinger.” Clegane countered sarcastically.

“Shut up! Both of you,” Arya hissed dangerously and grabbed Gendry by his forearm, “We’re going now, keep a look out dog.”

“Don’t need to tell me what to do.” He grunted but at the same time there seemed to be a lingering glance of worry in those hatred filled eyes.

They snuck onto the road, hand in hand, walking with the proximity of a normal married couple. A _respectable_ couple. They met with an old lady sitting on the porch of an old house with her dog across her feet.

“Need to see the maester.” Gendry asked in his best Fleabottom accent.

“You’re not from here, are ya.”

“Me wife and I been travelling, escaping the Mad Queen. Goin’ north, the dead men stopped walking parently’.”

“You not well girl?” the lady asked.

Arya looked at her and shook her head, holding her belly.

“Ah, just checkin’ aye? Well I wish ya both good fortune. Good thing I’m the closest thing to a maester ye’ll get in these neck of the woods. Come in, come in. You want some tea darlin’?”

Arya looked at Gendry hesitantly until he nodded her on.

“No thank you.”

“How long you two been married?” she asked, as she got up and clobbered through the doorway.

“Bout a half a year,” Gendry told her, “Been trying for a little one ever since.”

“You bleedin’ properly?” the lady asked Arya and she stiffened.

“No.”

“Shame, come sit on the bed.” She motioned to rickety cot in the back of the room of the house.

Arya looked at Gendry again and took his hand, letting him lead her to the bed. Even when she was settled down, he didn’t bother letting go of her hand. He was excited and nervous. Children with Arya was never going to an easy road but he loved her fiercely and that was enough.

“Darlin’ I know you’re a highborn, can’t hide these things from an old woman whose seen too much,” The lady stated, shocking the both of them. “But you, you aren’t no highborn.”

Gendry’s face tightened.

“Use to be a blacksmith.” He replied and the lady chuckled.

“I can tell, with those arms.” She smirked.

Arya just looked defeated and tired.

“How do you know I’m highborn?”

“A woman just knows these things darlin’, don’t have many friends so won’t be telling nobody. Don’t look so glum dear, we’ll sort you out.”

She asked a few questions regarding her routine and wellness over the last two months since her last moon blood, Gendry just sat silently beside her, caressing her hand. Then the lady started to poke and prod Arya’s belly much to her own dismay. She looked up at Gendry with concern on her face but he smiled sweetly and caressed her face.

“Jon is going to kill you.” She whispered.

“Oh well.” He shrugged his shoulders, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, “It’s worth it. It’s always worth it.”

She chuckled and hit his arm playfully.

“Why do you always have to make sense all the time?”

“I thought I was stupid.” He smirked and she looked away to the old woman, mumbling under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” he sounded, immediately becoming concerned.

 “Your wife is with child…” she started but she was frowning.

“But?” Arya asked impatiently.

“Who gave you these scars?” the woman’s voice lowered.

“No one.” She answered, turning cold.

Gendry shivered. So, that was her faceless voice.

“The skin on the outside may be healed but I believe the blade that cut you could have ruptured your insides. Maybe even your womb.”

Arya stiffened and he could tell there’s was fear in her posture.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it may not survive.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jon and gendry talk family and feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a really important component that i wished they show more of in shows like got is the ability for a man to be vulnerable, to be able to cry and not conform to the toxic stereotype of masculinity. boys, you are humans too. you're not robots, you feel emotion. just a little heads up because I intend to make everyone emotional in this story. 
> 
> if you have any questions about where this story is headed or what the sequel will be about, pop a comment down below!
> 
> i would like to thank you guys so much for nearly 400 kudos and over 21 500 hits. It truly means the world to me. I hope I can keep your hearts warm throughout this got deprived year. I know, I'm going to need a lot of emotional aid. i encourage fellow writers to keep writing and continuing their stories so we don't all die. thank you xxxx

**Jon**

 

 

Arya came back from the village with tear-stained eyes, wrapped in the warmth of her husband’s furs. She did not bother to say good night to him or any other men. She just led Gendry Baratheon away to their bedrolls and lay in his arms while he stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head and muttering words into her ear. Jon could not be jealous of a man who made Arya want to marry but still, he longed for the touch of a women whether that be from his sister or the ones he desired. He didn’t miss Daenerys, he always thought it was too good to be true. He missed the wintery warmth of his Ygritte whose hair bore the colour of a fire, so bright it burnt away at the North. Moving on from her with Daenerys had been a temporary satisfaction and he could see Ygritte shaking her head up in the heavens somewhere. In a better world, he could have lived in that cave forever and they could have had babes, living as free folk in the cold winter of the North.

 So, he decided to go to sleep later than the others, stoking the remaining embers with the scent of roast rabbit hanging in the air. Davos called it brooding, so did Tyrion at one point. Arya just said he looked stupid.

“Can’t sleep?” Jon called out, turning around to see his good brother standing a few feet away.

The Baratheon bastard huffed and bowed his head, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s still too fuckin’ cold out here for me here.” He sat down by Jon, tugging his coat tighter around his broad shoulders.

“You married a Northerner, you’ll get used to it,” Jon chuckled, “And by the good of the Gods what’s wrong with my little sister?”

Gendry audibly gulped and looked at his hands. They were faded black and the calluses that covered them were rough but he knew the man and he was as gentle as a maiden.

“There’s something we need to tell you.”

“She’s with child, isn’t she?” Jon asked and the blue-eyed man stared at him, scared like a stag would with a wolf.

“Fuckin’ inconvenient but you two are married, you’re allowed to do what you want.” Jon replied.

“I was literally shittin’ my pants getting the courage to say that to you.” Gendry exhaled deeply and Jon rocked back his head in laughter.

“Bet Arya threatened to gut you if you didn’t.” Jon mused but Gendry shook his head.

“Quite the opposite. I haven’t technically finished.” He said, looking back at her sleeping figure.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked worriedly.

“Did Arya ever tell you what happened in Braavos?” Gendry suddenly asked, wiping his face with his hands.

“The faces yes, and I guess that crazy bitch that tried to kill her.”

“She got stabbed in the belly, and not just once. There’s these long scars down her abdomen. Went to the healer and she said the scars may be internal as well...”

Jon put a hand on his good brother’s shoulder, “She’ll be alright. She’s strong, you know that.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Gendry snapped in a whisper, tears brimming in his eyes, “She might lose the baby, she said maybe it won’t survive.”

Jon watched him break down. He’d never seen a man so emotional for his family, for the possibility for a family. Ned Stark may have loved all his children and him with the ferocity of a Northern wolf but the man wasn’t known for his emotions. He hadn’t cried when Sansa, Arya or Bran or Rickon were born. Apparently, the man bled and didn’t shed a tear or a cry. But Jon admired Gendry’s tears, he admired the fact he cared about his sister in a way he had never seen a love before.

“All I ever wanted was to have a place in the world. Be something more than nothing. Have a family, a wife.”

“You’ll get it, we all will get it eventually.”

“Arya… She has bled enough. She has lost enough family for peace to be eventual. I want her safe, I want her content. I want to die in her arms when I’m old and surrounded by grandchildren. I want her, no I _need_ her. I go mad without that woman.”

The man angrily brushed his tears away, wiping his hand on his breeches.

“Aye, she’s bled enough. And even though she’ll stick you through with Needle if you give any vows of love and safety, you need to protect her. You need to get her somewhere safe.” Jon pressed.

“We’re going somewhere safe but I can never protect her. Once upon a fuckin’ time, I left her because I was too proud to serve her brother and watch her marry a pompous lord. I hated lords because I wanted to be one so I could stay by her side.”

Jon chuckled and looked up at the stars, “Davos always said you hated highborns.”

“I figured the Northern ones are the better ones, even Ned Stark, thought he was better than most I met.”

Jon sighed in nostalgia, “They call him the most honourable man to ever live.”

“So, they say.”

“He’d be happy to see you and Arya. It’s what was meant to happen between Robert and Lyanna but Robert was a whoring drunk.”

“The day I saw him, I prayed for any sons that man might have had.”

“He was a fat fuckin’ bastard, wasn’t he?” Jon chuckled and he finally got a laugh from Gendry.

“Could you men be any louder?” Arya called, stealing from the darkness with an oversized cloak wrapped around her figure.

She walked closer to fire towards Gendry and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jon could see the blacksmith slink an arm around her waist and the other lay protectively around her belly.

“Go back to bed, you two. It’s going to be a long ride tomorrow.”

“Aye, come on m’lady love.” Gendry teased, picking her up bridal style.

“Shut up, stupid.” She hissed, butting her nose with his.

“What did you do with my sister?” Jon jested.

“Completely brainwashed her.” Gendry joked back and both men laughed.

 

Brothers.

Jon missed his. But all he had to do was acquire another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit short, sorry. IB (International Baccalaureate Diploma) is a piece of shit.


	28. Arya VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm legit dead cos I'm sick again so enjoy this crappy chapter! thanks for all the support x

**Arya**

It must have been the early hours of the morning when Arya woke again; Gendry wrapped around with his hands protectively around her belly. She liked the warmth his hands emitted, how they warmed her bones to her core. She felt full in a way she had never felt before, she could almost feel the baby. And that thought was surprisingly difficult to comprehend. She wanted a family with Gendry; a little boy with blue eyes and dark hair or a young girl who learn to fight like a wolf and a bull. They’d grow up in the Stormlands, read tales of heroic warriors and forge and spar and travel and learn different tongue’s. Arya would teach them Braavosi, she’d hire Missandei as a tutor. They’d learn High Valryian and travel further West and East than any man would before. She’d teach how to water-dance, how to catch cats. She’d let them run around in the mud and the rain, come to dinner with sticks in their hair and stains on their clothes. If she had girls they would choose the dress or the breeches. And if she wanted to sit with her Aunt Sansa and sew pretty patterns on frilly fabric then she’d be allowed to as well.

But she was scared. She didn’t know what to expect, she didn’t have her sister to help her or any other women. Her mother would have proven very helpful at a time like this but Arya couldn’t remember ever showing interest in the life of motherhood. She just speculated that the conception of her younger brothers came from her father and mother holding hands or another shenanigan that would be _oh so daring_ to a girl of nine years. It was always Sansa who was interested in what Septa Mordane had to say. The only time Arya even looked at the woman was to see if she could run away from the sewing circles and join her brothers. Jon always knew what she was, Robb not so much. But Jon knew she was a wolf, a strange but powerful wolf who had a mean way with a sword.

And that’s where she felt safe, safe from pretending to be someone else. Gendry didn’t want someone prim and proper. He had chosen a wolf for a bride, a warrior to mother his children. He wanted her in breeches and dresses and mud and sweat. Well he especially liked her when her breeches were _off_ , but that was beside the point.

“Gendry.” She snuck her hand up and caressed his face.

He moved around, his eyes fluttering. She knew he was never a heavy sleeper; the slightest sound would wake him up. It was the years of being on the run from the wars and the Lannisters. She knew better than anyone.

“What’s wrong love?” he murmured, kissing the side of her head.

 “Nothing,” she said, turning around and facing him, “Just cannot believe that we’re having a babe.”

He smiled sheepishly and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, “I can.”

“Was Jon angry with us?” she asked and his face tightened.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” he said back, resting on his elbow, “We all know it’s not an appropriate time but what can we do. I’d be fucking you either way.”

“Way to be romantic Gendry.”

“And tell me a time where you’ve been romantic m’lady.” He jested and she swatted his arm, _hard_.

“I bloody married if you don’t remember, stupid.”

“Oh yeah, why’d you end up doing that?” he grinned and butted his forehead against hers.

“There was a very persistent Baratheon bastard who wanted me and I couldn’t just say no.”

“Sounds like an arse; forcing you to marry.”

“Yeah I agree. But he’s going to be the father of my child so I think I might I have to put up with him for a bit longer.”

“How long are you talking m’lady?”

“I don’t know, until I’m a bit old and grey.”

“He should consider himself lucky, _very_ lucky.”

“Well I don’t know, he’s in risk of getting stabbed each day.” She grinned.

Gendry went silent and stared at her, she could see the blues of his eyes reflecting in the dying light of the dying fire and there were staring intently at her.

“I love you Arya.”

“I know that, stupid.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The packed up quickly the next day and Gendry began to nag at her to be careful while she mounted her horse. In retaliation, Arya galloped off with her brother and was gone for a full hour. It wasn’t her fault; her stupid bull was as stubborn as she was and he never took no as an answer. He was going to drive her crazy while she carried his child and he was already such a pain in the arse when they travelled. She would probably end up strangling him to death. He was terribly grumpy when she got back but they made up that night by sneaking off into the undergrowth and fucking like a pair of rabbits. She had howled so loud that the camp thought they were under attack by a pack of wolves and of course Sandor Clegane gave them a disgusted when they returned hand in hand with ruffled tunics and few sticks in Arya’s hair. _Hunting,_ they had said and Jon being as oblivious as he was, thanked them for the lone rabbit Arya had snagged while Gendry stalked away to hide his face that was as red as a beet.

“You can’t seriously be embarrassed fucking me. You’re my _lord husband.”_ She mocked that night when he finally had enough courage to crawl back into their shared bedroll.

“Yeah and his Grace, you’re _king brother_ would still geld me if he knew what we were up to.” He huffed, burrowing deeper in the roll and wrapping his arms around her so his bullocks wouldn’t freeze off.

“Cold, are we?” she whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw, “I know a place that isn’t.”

She saw him roll his eyes with a faint smile on his lips as he rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“You exhaust me, m’lady,” He mumbled, letting out a loud yawn, “Let a lord sleep for once my dear.”

“ _My dear?_ ” she sneered, chuckling, “You did not just call me, _my dear_. Do I look like a dear to you?”

“I don’t know what you look like but you’re sounding like a yapping wolf so, let me sleep will you?”

“I’m not a dear because I’m not a lady.” She huffed.

“You’re my lady so you’re my dear.” He retaliated.

“But I’m your wolf.” She whined.

“You’re my sweet darling wolf then, not my dear. Go to sleep.” He winked at her and kissed her forehead.

“Whatever stupid.” She sighed and nestled into his side.


	29. Sansa VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa spends her time as Princess of the North in Jon's stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short one for today, aha sorry. school is going to be the death of me. thank you for 23 000 hits! i love you all <3

**Sansa**

 

 

It had been a moon and a bit since Arya, Jon and Gendry left to Bronzegate which meant they must have reached it by now. Sansa was left to deal with the affairs at Winterfell that Jon knew she was most capable of which she was not completely complaining about, she was just forced to share her home with many others who she did not necessarily trust. She knew Arya was in the same boat; besides from Gendry, Jon, her and Bran, Arya did not seem to trust a single soul. Sansa however had Sandor and maybe Tyrion because she had bloody married the Lannister. Daenerys was a different situation and the problem was, Sansa was forced to deal with. Even though the Dragon Queen was very loyal to the cause and the Targaryens and Starks had become the closest allies in the Realm, Sansa knew that Jon’s rejection of her could cause unpredictability. The North did not forget that her father had burnt Brandon and Rickard Stark with wildfire. So, Sansa decided to stay tolerant and respectful rather than cause discomfort. She may have been naïve once a long time ago but Sansa had played the game a few more times than all these other proud lords and she refused to be tossed aside like some doll. That was what she liked about Daenerys; she was a woman yet she could call a room to silence with just her eyes.

Daenerys, Bran, Tyrion, Edd Tollett and her sat at the high table while the Northern Lords chattered loudly below them. She wished Sandor Clegane to be here, just to protect her because she knew he would. She had learnt to sow with _a_ needle, not gut a man in half. Someone tapped a crystal goblet with their fork and the chatter quieted down. Sansa rose, patted her skirts, her cold demeanour rose up and froze her cheeks.

“My lords, her Grace and I are most grateful for your hasty return to Winterfell. We are also eternally grateful for the service provided in the War of the Dawn!” she called and the men raised their tankards and cheered.

“Unfortuately, Queen Cersei Lannister is still festering in King’s Landing and threatens to attack us from the South. In honour of our alliance with House Targaryen, we will remove her and her scum and allow Queen Daenerys the Iron Throne.”

The men cheered again, banging the table excitedly. _Men_ , she thought, sharing a raised eyebrow with Daenerys who laughed when their expressions matched.

“Your highness!” a voice called, “I would like to voice a complaint.

Sansa returned her gaze to below her where a lord stood proudly. The sight nearly made her roll her eyes.

“Speak true my good lord.” Sansa answered and the man bowed.

“Princess Arya Stark. Where is she?”

“As I would say that is none of your concern my lord, Princess Arya arrived at Bronzegate with her lord husband and your King.” Daenerys answered for her and Sansa was momentarily grateful.

“And you, your highness let her marry a lord of an extinct House? A bastard nevertheless…”

“House Baratheon is legally extinct from the decree of Cersei Lannister who is not my Queen. Lord Gendry was properly legitimised by King Jon. Even though Queen Daenerys’ family and legacy was eliminated by Robert Baratheon who happens to be the father of Lord Gendry, Queen Daenerys does not hold him accountable for the actions of his father as much as we Starks do not hold queen Daenerys for those of her father.” Sansa started and the lord made room to talk but she instantly shut him up.

“I have not finished!” he went meek and bowed his head, “As for being a bastard, Lord Gendry forged thousands of weapons for the Long Night and designed the scorpions that killed the wight dragon! Without him, you would be frozen dead, walking with the rest of the Army of the Dead.”

“But your highness! Wouldn’t have been wise to marry her to a Northern lord! Have her babes be Starks!”

Daenerys shook her head and answered, “I believe you think us women broodmares still my lord. Princess Arya did not marry Gendry Baratheon for a political alliance. She married him for love which she was permitted to do. I believe anyone who knew her well enough would know she’d kill the first man that touched her without permission.”

“As much as wish for there to be a Stark princess to stick your prick in, Princess Arya will always be a Stark whether she’s married to a stag or a bull.” Davos called out and Sansa had to stifle her giggles when she saw the lord’s face.

“I beg your forgiveness your Graces.” He stammered but Sansa had none of it.

“You disrespected your princess and her lord husband which means you disrespected our family. You are dismissed my lord from this council.” she called and two Stark guards removed him from the hall.

“The next man who speaks out against my sister’s marriage will see the end of a blade, notably either your king’s or my sister’s.” Sansa announced and the hall went silent.

 _Now,_ she thought, _we wait for a raven from Jon._

 

 

 


	30. Gendry VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the party arrives at bronzegate but a certain she-wolf succumbs to fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn okay this was fun to write for some reason cos i just had this burst of inspiration and well i hope it's not completely shitty. okay i just can't stop writing about gendry's and jon's relationship with each other idk and i'm making gendry into such a crybaby but idk i feel like he would be even though he's such a big bullhead. also, know that i hate sad endings but something pretty horrible will be occurring in the coming chapters (if you can guess). sorry :(( 
> 
> anyway thank you again for all the lovely comments and support this fic still gets. we're nearing the end of the journey but alas! there will be a sequel that is being written and will have much longer chapters etc. i've had the idea for this plot for a very long time (even before I started properly reading gendrya fics) and so I hope that it stays relatively original and is still an entertaining read. 
> 
> thank you again my loves, <3

**Gendry**

 

 

 

It was thrashing with wind and rain when they arrived at Bronzegate, the sun was beginning to set among the trees. It had been a tiresome moon for the whole of the party; their supplies had at one point run out which prompted some of them to go hunting for a few days. Arya had gone with her brother and his Northern men saying they knew how to better than anyone leaving him with the Hound and Lord Buckler. _I might meet Nymeria again my sweet bull, let me go… Please, I’ll keep the little one and I safe. I promise._ He was forced to say yes, forced to let his wild wolf hunt for prey like her Northern blood yearned for. It had been the second day of the hunting party’s venture and Gendry had started to get extremely paranoid; not being able to sleep at night and pacing to the point the Hound slapped him hard in the face and told him to settle. He was acting like a mad man by the night they returned and saw them lugging a huge stag behind him. Arya had a small cut on her left eyebrow and had a slight limp but overall looked like she was unhurt. _She just looked tired._ They had met bandits who had foolishly tried to ambush them. His Arya did meet her ferocious direwolf again by ripping the leader of the outlaws’ face off and feasting on his decaying corpse. The wolf had not come with them and Arya was surprisingly at peace with it. He had wrapped her up in his arms for the rest of the night while they feasted hungrily on the roasted stag. The Hound managed to tell his love of how he reacted to her absence and she howled with laughter, pinching his cheek and raining him with kisses. Later in their bedroll after she rode him tenderly (she complained of soreness and cramping in her belly) until they were both spent, she took his face in her hands and whispered, _You must be glad you’re a bull love, wolves hunt stags. Bulls however are fierce and strong and you must be strong for us._ He stroked her stomach with his thumb, choosing not to reply in words. He had thanked the Gods that she had come back to him, safe from most harms.

His mind came back to the present as the men around him dismounted from their horses, swaying on their feet from exhaustion and lack of a decent bed. The darkness under Arya’s eyes had only worsened over the days and she heaved every morning meal daily to the point she could not see the point in eating anymore. But now he could see her eyes fluttering shut and her swaying in the saddle. He jumped off his horse in time to catch her as she slid unconscious from her steed, her skin was three shades paler than it normally was and her hands lay limp at her side. He glanced down to her and saw the real impact of the journey worn into her body, lifting a hand to her forehead to find her clammy and hot. _She was sick, sick beyond belief._

“I need a Maester he yelled and Lord Buckler looked up concerned.

“You heard your lord, get the bloody maester!” he yelled and the men scrambled.

Jon came up to him hurriedly and felt her forehead, “Come on, she needs to get inside.”

Gendry nodded and walked hard to the keep, Arya bouncing against his chest. The doors flew open and let them through, an elderly man that he could only think of as the maester of Bronzegate approached them with a slight limp.

“Lord Baratheon, it is an honour…”

“Help her…” he croaked, not realising that tears were starting to form in his eyes.

“My lord, you are on the verge of collapsing yourself, I can ask one of the men…”

“No one touches her except for her lord husband and myself,” Jon growled furiously, “Get her a room and treat her.”

The maester stumbled in fear and nearly collided headfirst with a beautiful stern looking woman who was probably Cersei Lannister’s age. _Probably Catelyn Stark’s age._

“I offer my apologies of the incompetence of our maester my lord, your Grace. Let me take you to a room and I can be of assistance. My mother was a long family of healers.”

“You need not to worry about the men Gendry, I’ll sort them out. Just make sure Arya is alright.” Jon told him and rushed back outside to calm the commotion.

 _Lady Buckler_. He remembered Lord Buckler drunk as one could get, spilling stories about the woman that seemed as stubborn and ferocious as his own wife.

_But you love her right? Gendry had asked and the man chuckled._

_We’re both blood of the storms lad, men like us don’t love ladies all prim and proper. We love women that drive us as mad as the storms do._

Gendry had smiled at that; Arya sometimes made him want to smash his head against a hard brick wall but other times when he was _her sweet bull_ he wanted nothing more than her warm heat to surround his cock and have her moaning his name in a wolf-like growl. But at all times he wanted to protect her, wanted to keep her safe even though he technically did not need to. But the thought of the babe in her womb that was theirs warmed his heart against the chilly winds. There was not a woman like Arya Stark and there would never be one he loved beside her.

“Thank you for having us Lady Buckler, my wife…”

“Hush now my lord, it is known from far and wide that the love you hold for wife is indescribable. I know you would die before anything happened to her so now please follow me my lord and I will do everything in my power to heal her.”

He followed Lady Buckler, walking hastily to the room. Arya was regaining some form of consciousness by gripping his leathers and furs but the green look of her face was nothing but an indication she was unwell. The Lady of Bronzegate opened the door to a smaller room with a single bed with perfectly enough room for his petit wife.

“Lay her down.”

Gendry obliged and gently laid her down on the bed.

“I thank you again Lady Buckler…”

“Oliva my lord, my name is Oliva.”

“Oliva then, I thank you for this.” Gendry looked down at Arya while Oliva shrugged off the thick jerkin and tunic she was wearing, removing her Northern fur coat.

“There is no need to thank me my lord…”

“Gendry, my name is Gendry. I only became your lord moons ago so I could marry her.”

“Gendry then,” she teased, moving to fill a wooden bowl with water, “I can see it in your eyes how much you love her. It’s how my husband looks at me… After a few drinks.” She laughed and Gendry smiled.

“Bring us two chairs,” she ordered the guard by the door.

“My lady.” He bowed and scuttled away returning with two heavy oak chairs in record time.

Oliva had already started dabbing her forehead with the wet cloth, checking her pulse consistently.

“Sit down son, this will be a long night.” He heard the once so hearty voice of Lord Buckler as he entered the room.

“She’s carrying my child.” Gendry blurted out and Oliva looked at him thoughtfully.

“A woman is always more vulnerable to the elements with a babe growing inside her. She must have picked up an infection from the weather and the exhaustion.”

Gendry tentatively sat down by the bed and took his wife’s hand in his own, bringing them to his lips and breathing hot air along her fingertips.

“How far along is she?” Oliva asked expertly.

“Four moons I believe.” He replied, not breaking contact with Arya’s unconscious form.

She was starting to show, her belly swollen in comparison to her tiny body. His heart thumped his chest painfully; he couldn’t lose her this way.

“She will be alright, she just needs someone to stay up with her tonight as she needs to break her fever.” Oliva concluded, tipping some milk of the poppy through her lips.

“She stayed by my bedside for a week after the War of the Dawn.” He replied softly, moving to caress her face, “Fed me, bathed me, spoke to me like I was alive and well. Held my hand the entire time. Slept in a damn chair for a week!” Gendry raised his voice and the room stilled, “She is my life, I am nothing without her and I will do anything to help her.”

“Let her rest and she will be fine. I give you my word.” Oliva promised and sat up, moving to her husband.

“We’ll leave you be, my lord.” Lord Buckler said quietly, moving away and closing the door.

But it slowly opened again as Jon Snow peeked through, his armour, chain mail and heavy fur cloak removed leaving him in a dark grey tunic with the intricate embroidery of a direwolf on the breast pocket.

“Is she okay?” Jon asked, moving behind where he sat.

“She’ll always be okay, she’s Arya.” Gendry scoffed, putting his face in his hands.

“She’s not immortal Gendry, I’ve died and I’ve seen the other side. Darkness, that’s all it is and it consumes everything. She’s been evading it for too long…”

“She’s not going to die!” Gendry roared but Jon did not flinch from the bull’s anger.

“No. Like she always says, _Not today.”_ Jon replied as Gendry swallowed his tears and fear until it became a lump in is throat.

Jon was the closest thing he had to a brother, well he was technically his brother by marriage but the two had formed a strong bond since meeting nearly a year ago in the caves of Dragonstone.

“I’m sorry Jon, I’m just…”

“I understand Gendry, she’s the love of your life and she’s unconscious on a bed in a land we don’t know at all. There is nothing to apologise for, you are her husband and she loves more than anything.”

“You are her brother and I had no right to raise my voice at you.” Gendry stubbornly shot back, earning a laugh from the Stark King.

“You are my brother as well Gendry, do not forget that.”

 “We are all family, we’re a pack. We stay together or we die.” Arya’s quiet voice came from below them.

Gendry’s gaze shot back to his wife whose eyes were fluttered half open and let out a breath of relief. He stroked her cheek tenderly and she gave him a weak smile and slowly lifted her hand to cover his.

“Don’t be worried stupid, I’ll be fine.” She whispered

“You need to sleep love.” He cooed and she looked up at him.

At some point he could hear Jon leave but he did not break eye contact with her.

“I love your eyes, have I ever told you that?” he shook his head and chuckled but she continued, “I want our babes to have eyes like yours, blue like the sea. Whenever I saw the sea in Braavos, I’d think of your eyes and I’d think of you, how I failed you.”

“It is was me who failed you my wolf.”

“Never,” she whispered so quietly Gendry could barely hear her, “Never did you ever fail me.”

He blinked and let new tears form in his eyes.

_His sweet winter wolf, his wild winter wolf._

_His Arya and only his._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapters on their way


	31. Jon VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jon visits arya by her bedside as she recovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this fluffy chapter of lots of bonding and stuff...... things are going to get a little more 'exciting' from here on out. prepare the tissue boxes! 
> 
> thank you for all the support, it means so much to me i cannot put it into words.
> 
> until next time, 
> 
> \- the land of nothing

**Jon**

A quiet week passed in Bronzegate and Arya still battling the infection she caught in their journey down south. It broke his heart to see his little sister like that; always in bed and barely being able to feed herself. Gendry never left her side, _never_. He fed her and changed her clothes and slept and had his meals by her bedside. He only ever left to bathe and change clothes once a day at Arya’s insistence when she was occasionally awake but only left Jon to watch her. He was incredibly paranoid and Jon understood every part of that. Gendry himself did not look any better than Arya; his skin was ashen and dark circles were forming under his eyes. The man refused to sleep and he only caught a few winks when Arya was awake.

There was no news of Daenerys advancing on King’s Landing so Jon was forced to stay put in Bronzegate. It was not like he wanted the siege to take place anytime soon, he was scared and unprepared. The Long Night had been enough and many enough had lost their lives. Jon walked down the halls of the Stormland keep, hearing the rain batter the walls. He hoped Arya would like it in the Stormlands, well he was sure she would be fine and she _did_ promise to come and visit the north regularly but there was a sort of unease that lined his gut with worry. He was glad that she had Gendry, _very_ glad. Jon walked to Arya’s chamber and saw the candle light flickering out of the slightly open door. Pushing the door open, he peeked his head through and saw Arya fast asleep, her face twisted in discomfort. Gendry held her hand in his and a rag in the other and he stared deep into the fire that blazed in the hearth.

“You’re seriously going to kill yourself if you keep that up.” Jon said to him but the bull did not move his gaze from the fire.

“She won’t appreciate a dead Gendry,” Jon continued, walking around the bed, “If you die, she’ll chase you to the seventh hell and kill you again.”

“I’ll be fine.” He replied hoarsely, like he had not used his voice for an age.

“Being depressed and staying here is not going to help her get better. She’d want you to engage with the Stormland lords. Lord Buckler needs to call a summit soon…”

“Fuck the Stormland lords, fuck the summit. I’m not leaving her.,” Gendry cut him off in a low voice, “She shouldn’t have left home, _we_ shouldn’t have left home.”

Jon was speechless. For a man that was usually so angry and loud, hearing him so quiet and defeated was utterly surprising to the Jon. The man would only smile if Arya was around and she had been for the past year. No one had thought to separate them.

“Gendry?” Arya’s quiet voice called out and both of them turned around quickly.

“We’re here love, both of us.” He heard Gendry whisper and Jon put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jon…” she muttered and her eyes fluttered open, “My head hurts.”

Gendry moved the rag into a bowl of water and wiped her brow gently. Normally she would have protested against anyone looking after her but for one of the first times since she was a child she was utterly bedridden sick and incapable of such defiance. Arya shifted uncomfortably but kept her eyes slightly open, focused on Gendry as he made work of wiping the sweat from her face.

“Jon’s right, you need to hold the summit with the Stormland lords Gendry.” Arya muttered and Jon sat down at the end of her bed.

“Not until you’re better love.” He replied without meeting her eyes.

“Oliva can look after me, you need to sleep.” She insisted but Gendry was not having it.

“No, not until you’re well and not lying in a fucking bed all day!” he raised his voice and it echoed across the stone walls of the room.

Jon knew that most women would have cringed at Gendry’s sudden outburst and fled crying from the room but his baby sister was certainly not one of those people. Instead she looked him directly in the eye, an impassive look taking over her face.

“Raising your voice at me isn’t going to make me better and neither is sitting by my bedside all day. In fact, it makes you even more stupid than you already are.” She said in a low voice, enough to send shivers down his spine.

“What of it? You sat by me for a week!” Gendry retaliated.

“You were unconscious, do I look unconscious to you?” Arya spat and left her husband into startled silence.

Jon pondered for a moment; it was going to be hard to sway the Bull’s mind on the matter but if Arya managed to convince him (which she usually did), there was a possibility he would give in.

“You need to hold the summit and unite the Stormlands stupid or they won’t help us take King’s Landing from Cersei.” She told him and Gendry turned his gaze away, obviously frustrated.

“Look at me my bull, I am fine. I am talking to you and Jon right now and I promise I will get better if you promise to do what you need to do as a lord.” she cooed.

Gendry looked up at Arya with so much love in his eyes that Jon was seeing flashes of flaming red hair in his field of vision.

“I never wanted to be a lord.” he told her and stroked the side of her face with his palm.

“But you are, and you’ll make a fine one,” She smiled him, “And however bad I am at it, I will always be your lady.”

That seemed to coax a smile out of the Bull and soon Jon found him standing up.

“You can say that again.” Jon laughed and Arya smiled at him, covering her mouth to cough.

Gendry looked at Arya again with hesitation but she stopped him.

“You’ve grown a beard stupid.” She winked at him and he scoffed playfully.

“You don’t seem all that sad about it m’lady.”

“It makes you look like a Baratheon.” Jon cut in and he saw Arya nodding in agreement in the corner of his eye.

“If I look like one, surely they’ll listen to me.” Gendry joked and Arya snorted weakly.

“Please, the only person who doesn’t listen to you is me.”

“Again, true.” Jon laughed.

“Don’t remind me,” He grumbled and turned to leave, “You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, my dearest lord husband.” Arya teased croakily.

“You’ll call for me immediately if anything is amiss?” Gendry asked.

“Maybe.”

“Arya.” He chastised.

“Yes, I will stupid bull.”

“Good.”

He turned and left through the door and Jon heard Arya sigh.

“I love him Jon, I love him with all my heart but Gods that man is infuriating.” Arya whispered, sinking back under the covers.

“I’d be doing the same thing if he wasn’t there.” Jon announced and Arya coughed again.

“Both of you are infuriating then.”

“Sounds right, glad to be of service.” Jon teased and ducked when Arya threw a pillow at him.

“I still can’t believe you were the first to get married little wolf.” Jon whispered and sat down in the chair that Gendry had occupied for a week.

“I don’t recommend it, ever since he heard about the baby he’s been bossing me around. Some days I just want to wrap a chord around his neck and be done with it.” Arya sighed.

“Arya, I’ve heard the sounds you two make at night and it doesn’t sound like you want to throttle him.”

“Oh, shut up.” She coughed violently and glared daggers at him once her fit subsided.

“You promise you’ll be alright?” Jon asked her out of the blue and Arya cocks her head to the side.

“I will be Jon, you know that.”

_But do I?_

“Winter has come Jon now we prepare for the one that is coming.” Arya said to him.

“Father never said that.” Jon asked, confused.

“No, he never did because he never experienced the things we’ve seen. He’d want to die all over again if he heard what happened to all of us.” Arya grimaced in pain but continued, “But he can see us now and see us being strong. For him, for Robb and Rickon…”

“For Catelyn Stark.” Jon butted in and Arya looked at him.

“I miss them,” Arya said, “Sometimes I miss them so much it hurts.”

“I know little wolf.” Jon replied eerily.

“They’d all be so proud of you, even my mother.” Arya told him and Jon looked into her eyes that were identical to hers.

“They’d be proud of you too.”

“My mother wouldn’t approve of Gendry,” Arya sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the room she had been confined to for so long, “I’d be married to Elmar Frey if the Red Wedding didn’t happen. Did you know that? I was furious when I found out. All for a fucking bridge.”

“You would have run away, let’s be honest.” Jon chuckled.

“I would have killed someone for sure.”

“You should tell Gendry about that.”

“He’d probably kill someone too.”

“Isn’t that just a sign you two were made for each other.” Jon mocked and Arya chuckled.

“I thought loving stupid lords was for stupid girls like Jeyne and Sansa,” she clutched her tunic to her nose and Jon realised it was Gendry’s, “My lord may be a Baratheon but he has no stag in him.”

“A good thing little sister, definitely a good thing.”

“You’ll learn how to love again Jon, I swear it.”

“I take you for granted sometimes Arya Stark.

“Unfortunate of you, your Grace.” Arya teased and he smacked her leg lightly.

“Get some sleep Lady Baratheon, your lord husband wants you well rested or he might be hunting you down.” Jon joked lightly earning a scowl from her.

“Knowing the stupid bull, he’ll try and sleep here tonight but please don’t let him. He’s so stupid.” She groaned.

“Stupid and all but you love him?”

“Unfortunately.” Arya winked.

“Good night Arya.”

“Good night Jon, sleep well.”

And at that, Jon got up from her bed and walked out the room, closing the door behind him to meet Gendry who was leaning against the archway.

“She’d do the same.” Jon whispered and Gendry’s face cracked into a small smile.

“Yeah she definitely would.”


	32. Arya VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this took me nearly 2 weeks to write and is probably one of the longest chapters in the story...
> 
>  
> 
> shit hits the fan in this one, apology given in advance

**Arya**

 

 

When she woke again it was still dark and the fire crackled weakly in the hearth. Gendry had not come back since she insisted he hold the summit and the chair beside her was empty, the room lacking the sounds of his snoring. It was a hard time trying to convince him to hold the summit, especially while she was lying there all alone. He had ordered two, quite needless guards to stand by her door at all times which was quite laughable as she could protect herself blinded. Arya never liked to be vulnerable like this, not at all. She always kept her catspaw under her pillow no matter where she slept and Gendry never made any protest against it, knowing she was fully capable of protecting the two of them. But for the first time since the fiasco in Braavos when the Waif stabbed her, Arya knew she would have to fight for her life if an intruder was to appear. Not that she was going to admit that to Gendry or Jon anytime soon but Arya felt strange ever since she arrived in Bronzegate and not because of the unfamiliarity. Lord and Lady Buckler were two of the humblest people that Arya had ever met and they both adored Gendry. Oliva had taken on the responsibility of Arya’s caretaker, also looking after her stupid bull husband who threatened to kill every man in a ten metre radius when her fevers were sky-rocketing. Arya weirdly trusted Oliva in a way she could not explain and so did Gendry which was terribly unusual for him. But now while she lay in the dark by herself, the unease crept over her like a shadow and it finally hit her what was making her feel the way she did.

_The baby._

Her hand shot to her swollen belly and her thoughts immediately went to Gendry who was probably in the middle of some completely overwhelming meeting with lords of keeps that he only knew the names to months before. Gods, she missed him. She was sure of it… He kept her safe in ways she could not comprehend and he always had. His absence only made the feeling of dread deep in the pit of her stomach even worse. She rose from the furs and blankets, using her arms to hold up the weight of her body. She hadn’t spoken since she had convinced Gendry to go and hold the summit, only nodding and shaking her head as modes of communication. She called out but her voice came out crackled so she tried again calling for Gendry and her voice finally made sound. A guard knocked the door and poked his head through.

“My husband… Please get him.” She told him.

“Of course, my lady.”

He left and she could hear the two guards beginning to talk loudly until the loud running footsteps of one of them rang the walls of the corridor outside. _He’ll be here soon,_ she told herself, pushing the hair out her eyes and sighing. She needed him right now before something bad happened, her heart was racing uncontrollably in her chest. She strained her ears for sound outside that could indicate the presence of her husband’s heavy strides but there was nothing. She huffed in annoyance and fidgeted until the door swung open and was closed again.

“Gendry?”

She was cut off by the furs being lifted off her form gently and she knew the scent and presence of her own husband. And this was not him.

She quickly rolled to side, clambering off the bed before the glinting steel of a blade punctured the mattress where she had been sitting and she grabbed her catspaw from under the pillow, summersaulting away.

“A girl still owes a name to the Many Faced God.”  

 Arya’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion as she accustomed her eyes to the darkness but the figure was only moving further towards her, slashing the blade expertly.

“Stay away!” her voice crackled but the Faceless intruder said no words of recognition and kept advancing.

She screamed Gendry’s name and lifted herself off the ground, running to the table which she threw at the Faceless Man. With a practiced roll to the side, they avoided the table and locked eyes with Arya. Whoever this was, it reminded her truly of the Waif and the last few days she spent in Braavos in the horrendous pain from the stabbings. For the first time, Arya shook with fear and thought of the babe growing inside her. 

“A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, leave her alone.” Arya shouted, holding the catspaw out, clutching her belly.

Something in the dark nicked her cheek and she realised the Faceless man had thrown the blade at her.

“A girl lies.”

Arya groaned. Not the Game of fucking Faces.

“A girl is Arya Stark and her business is done with the Many Faced God.”

She avoided the second knife that flew her way and started hearing noises outside, praying to the Gods that it was Gendry or Jon.

“A girl lies again.”

“Did Jaqen send you?” Arya asked.

“This one does not know that name.”

She dodged the next flurry of attacks.

“A girl is a wife.” The Faceless Man observed, “A girl carries her husband’s child in her womb, her damaged womb.”

Arya barely had a second to process the figure sweeping her feet from beneath her causing her to violently crash to the ground. She sprawled her body and clambered away on her knees but the Faceless and kicked her in the side to cease her movements. Arya groaned in pain as the figure grabbed her by the nape of her neck, bunching her hair in their hand roughly and lifted the blade to her throat.

“A girl owes a name to the Many Faced God.” The form repeated but her heart was ringing so loud in her own ears that the words were incomprehensible.

“Please…” she whimpered, thinking of Jon, thinking of Sansa back in Winterfell.

She thought of Gendry and a sob racked her body.

“Gendry…” she cried as the blade dug deeper into her throat.

Suddenly the door of her room smashed right open and the sounds of fighting outside rang true like a bell.

 “ARYA!” she heard a familiar voice bellow from behind them and the figure turned their body to face him.

Gendry was standing in the doorway, his fist clenched around his Warhammer and his brilliant blue eyes were trained on hers filled with a fear she had never seen in her life. His jerkin was speckled with blood.

“Let her go!” he roared, the Baratheon fury erupting from his veins.

“A girl owes a debt to the Many-Faced God.” the figure pulled tighter on Arya’s hair and she let out another sob.

“Fuck your God! Put. Her. Down!” he growled.

Arya stretched her hand out, searching for something until she met something sharp… Her catspaw! She lifted it by the blade with the tips of her fingers and swung it into the palm of her hand. Blindly she took the catspaw in both hands and drove it repeatedly in the Faceless Man’s form, hearing the steel sink into the flesh again and again. She didn’t care where the blade stuck; whether or not she would have stabbed them enough for the face to be unrecognisable but soon she felt two strong arms pull her away and wrap her against an equally strong chest. She looked up and saw Gendry’s blood-splattered face and his closed eyes as he tugged her fiercely to his body. She turned her head and saw the crumpled body of the Faceless Man; blood starting to seep on the stone floors. She let him just rock her, stroking her hair and keeping her body against the rapid beating of his heart. Hers was beating faster than she thought could ever be possible.

“You’re with me love, you’re safe, you’re safe.” He kept repeating like a prayer.

 “Arya?” she heard her brother call.

Gods, he was covered in blood as well.

“What happened?” he asked, kneeling down to where she sat with Gendry on the floor.

Gendry’s hold on her loosened but she stayed firmly planted on his lap. He knew of course, but it would be hard saying it aloud, knowing how much pain it caused them in the past.

“The Faceless Men…” she croaked and Gendry massaged the small of her back.

“What did that cunt mean love? What name do you owe?” he asked her tenderly, like she was made of delicate glass…

A distinct smell wafted through her nostrils and even in their bloodied and blocked state, she knew that the aroma was something familiar. It smelt like death but it was not the rotting corpse beside them. It was then she noticed searing white heat in her lower abdomen that throbbed with each breath.

Arya brushed Gendry’s arms off her and attempted to stand, clutching the bedpost for support.

“Arry, what are you…”

She reached down and lifted her nightgown up to her small clothes, slipping her fingers inside them. When her hands remerged again, they were covered in sticky and dark red blood that matched her thighs that were practically dripping with the same substance. She looked back to the front of Gendry’s breeches when she had sat in his lap moments before and saw the same dark red stain. She felt the thin layer of her nightgown, also soaked with the same blood.

She let out a whimper which quickly escalated to a wail, her knees buckling underneath her. Gendry must have realised what had happened because she saw the tears were streaming down his face even before he bent down and picked her up, putting her on the bed. He held her as she screamed until her lungs ran dry, his tears dampening her hair.

“They killed our babe!” she sobbed, clutching his tunic with enough force to rip, “They killed it Gendry and it’s all my fault.”

He ran a hand down her hair, “No, no, no… It’s not your fault my wolf, it’s not your fault.” He soothed but she could hardly breathe.

“I wanted to… to give us a family…” she choked and he raised her chin with his thumb looking deep into her eyes.

“You are my family Arya. From the day I met you till the day I die, you will always be my family. My love, my sweet winter wolf. I’ll kill them all for taking our little one from us but I will always have you, only if you have me.”

“You’ll always have me stupid.” She sobbed and he held her again.

He let her cry a little more until she could not physically conjure any tears more.

“What happened outside?” she sniffed at looked at her brother whose brooding expression was unreadable in the darkness of the room.

“A small revolt, .” He replied with a sad smile, looking at Gendry for reassurance.

“Who revolted?” she asked and the room went silent again.

“One of the lords Arya,” her sweet bull answered, “He didn’t want to be ruled by a bastard.”

His face went grim when he mentioned his birthright and she stroked his arm.

“ _Didn’t?”_

Gendry’s face hardened.

“I haven’t decided what I want to do with him yet. Right now, he’s in the dungeons and we killed all his men who attacked us.”

“Execute him Gendry, you cannot have enemies this far down South. Jon and I won’t be able to protect you…”

The door creaked open and all three of them reached for the weapons but it was only Lady Oliva followed by her husband. They both looked warily at the scene; the dead body still crumpled on the floor and the blood that was covering all their faces. But before Arya could explain, she saw Oliva’s eyes catch the bloody bottom of her nightgown and the older woman let out a sob.

“Oh Lady Arya…”

“It is okay Oliva, I am fine.” She lied and felt Gendry’s arm tug around her tighter.

The room fell into silence again until Lord Buckler knelt by her and Gendry, taking out his sword and stabbing it into the floor.

“My lord, my lady. For the all the injustices you faced in my home, I apologise from the bottom of…”

“Lord Buckler you had no control over anything that happened today. If anything, we are sorry that this bloodshed had to happen in your home,” Arya cut him off, “But allow your Lord to carry out his justice…”

“Tomorrow.” Gendry answered her, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ll run a bath in your chambers.” Oliva quickly said and fled the room.

Gendry picked her weak body up bridal style while she clutched to his bloodied tunic.

“Are you okay love?” he whispered into her ear.

She answered by burying her head into his chest and she felt him sigh sadly.

“Let’s get out of here.” Jon said, his nose wrinkling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was an hour later when Arya was settled into her second bath of the night, resting on Gendry’s chest. The first water she had been by herself, cleaning the blood in-between her thighs, on her legs and on her face. The nightgown had been tossed into the fire and she masked the prominent scent of death away with rosewater and jasmine oils provided by Lady Oliva. When servants changed the water and Gendry arrived at their chambers, the rain outside had mostly washed the blood of his dirty clothes and he urged her to share the bath with her. He knew she needed him more than ever, now that they had lost the babe. She focused on the fire that blazed fiercely in the hearth, analysing the room around her. The Lord and Lady’s chambers in Bronzegate were designed perfectly for them; with a four-poster bed taking up majority of the space and a dark wooden table near the window. It was nothing she was not used to, but the Stormlanders had different ideas of interior design. Instead of furs, long and thick woven rugs covered the stone floor. Two banners hung by the fireplace; one for House Buckler and the other for House Baratheon.

 _Gendry’s house_ , she thought to herself.

But everyone with common sense knew that her husband cared little for lords and houses.

_He might start having to._

Gendry arms sneaked around her waist.

“I can hear you thinking, what’s on your mind?” he asked gently.

She covered her arms with his and leaned back into his embrace.

“Nothing. Everything. What is there to think about?” she responded and she felt him grow tense.

He had taken the sight of her bloody clothes much better than she had, but she could tell he was starting to grieve. He had been so protective and so excited for the babe that the thought of him having his dream crushed physically hurt her. He had wanted to be the father of their child more than anything and she had taken that away from him.

“I know what you’re thinking about Arya, don’t you dare blame yourself.” He warned her, shifting in the tub.

But she was blaming herself; she was the reason why the Faceless Men came for her and the babe. If she had not have gone to Braavos in the first place…

“I know you’re right Gendry, I just can’t help but feel that way okay?” she huffed, raising her arms from the water and crossing them over her chest.

He kissed her temple and sighed.

“I understand, trust me I know.” He whispered.

It was then when she heard the real tears in his voice; hours of hiding his emotions behind a wall of support and strength for her. He was like her in all ways; he hated feeling weak.

She turned in his arms and kissed the corner of his mouth tenderly, tasting the salt that rolled down from his eyes. His blue orbs wavered like an angry storm but all she could see in them was mourning.

“You can cry, you know? You’re not emotionless, not here with me.” She consoled him and he took a shaky breath.

“I’m okay,” He affirmed her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and staring down at her lovingly, “I have you still so I’m okay.”

She cupped his face and gave him another kiss, this time on his lips gently.

“You’re not okay and that’s fine Gendry.” She told him and she felt him chuckle.

“I love you Arya, I love you more than life,” he confessed in between kisses as they gradually became more heated, “No fuck that, you are my life.”

It was her turn to chuckle.

“I can’t believe I turned into Sansa; kissing my lord husband in our shared bath. She would be screeching in laughter if she saw this.” She remarked and he snorted.

“I don’t want your sister to see this.”

“Good point. She looks pretty harmless but that girl can put up one hell of a fight. She’d claw your eyes out with her nails.”

“I wouldn’t want to test that knowing how well you turned out.” He teased and she hit his arm playfully.

“Any more of that and you can find a new wife.”

“Sure m’lady, I doubt you could spend one night away from me.”

“Excuse me m’lord, and who was going on about how I’m your life or whatever. You’re a sap Baratheon.”

And that gorgeous smile erupted on his lips again followed by that laugh she had not heard in an age.

“But you love me.” He told her, looking into her eyes with serious intent.

“Yes stupid, you’re my family. You’ve always been my family,” She assured him, “And I promise you that I will give you a babe one day…”

“You’ll give us whatever you can Arya, you cannot promise anything and anything you give us will be enough.” He said quite abruptly.

“But what if not having children isn’t enough?”

“It will be,” he confirmed, “And besides, we have plenty more years of marriage ahead of us.”

He winked terribly and she fell into a fit of laughter as he tried to tickle her sides.

“That’s what I live for.” He pointed out and she raised an eyebrow at him, “Your happiness, being the reason for that beautiful laugh of yours.”

She scoffed and flicked water at him, “You make me happy enough Bull.”

Suddenly feeling that the water was cold, she shifted and rose from the tub, dripping in her own naked glory. She could feel his eyes on her lithe frame and wondered why in Seven Hells did he choose her.

 _Because he loves me,_ she reminded herself and hopped over the side of the tub to find the towels left for them.

She wiped herself dry and turned to face her husband who was shaking his head like a mutt would do. He looked unfairly attractive and she internally groaned at the sight.

“What are you looking at m’lady?” he teased, cocking an eyebrow cheekily and resting his chin on the edge of the tub.

“You.” She stuck out her tongue and hopped into her small clothes, securing some scraps of cloth just in case she bled again and slipped into a thigh length shift.

She walked over to where he sat in the tub, watching her and pulled a stool over to sit by him.

“When was the last time someone washed that hair of yours.” She mocked, running a hand through the shorter cropped hair that had grown out since their reunion in Winterfell, a year ago.

“I washed it on the journey, you were there.” He told her and she scrunched her nose up anyway.

“Lean back.” She whispered into his ear and felt his body quiver.

She found the soap and lathered it between her hands, moving to his nest of dirty tar black hair and starting to massage his scalp tenderly. He sighed in relief as his muscles went slack, resting against the edge of the bathtub.

“Don’t you dare expect this of me when you’ve had a long day running Storm’s End.” She warned him and he let out a laugh.

“I’m counting my blessings for this one-time love, I won’t be expecting anything,” he assured her, “And it won’t just be me running Storm’s End.”

She smiled at that.”

Once she was done, she grabbed a bowl and scooped up some of the bath water, using it to rinse out his hair. He shook his head again, spraying her with water.

“Stupid.” She mumbled and he smirked at her deviously.

Soon he also emerged from the tub, using the same towel as she did and patting the length of his body down. She clambered into their bed and watched him tug on a loose tunic and soft woollen breeches on, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Come to bed love.” She beckoned sleepily, the furs and heavy blankets engulfing her.

He strode over to her and lifted the covers, the feather mattress bowing as he slid in. He immediately wrapped his arms around her small frame and shoved his nose in her hair, sighing gently.

 

She closed her eyes and the let the sound of his soft breathing and the crackling of the fire take her somewhere other than the place the pain came from...

 

And she was going to exact revenge on the people who deserved it.


	33. No One

 

_The sky was weeping when she woke. Through the window she could see the colours of dawn spreading over the sky like a canvas._

_I could get used to this, she thought and looked down at the figure of her sleeping husband, lying on his stomach with an arm thrown around her._

_He looked so peaceful in sleep; like they had not suffered so much pain and suffering the past day, losing the one thing that make their hell-bent lives worth continuing. His eyelashes fluttered over the dark circles under his eyes, marks that she had not even noticed before. She had to admit, tired or not, her man was probably the most handsome in the Seven Kingdoms. She looked at him one more time and slowly began to slip out of his arms without him waking which would be an impossible task. Surely enough, by the time Arya had disentangled herself from his one arm, his blue eyes shot open widely and searched frantically around for her._

_“I need a drink.” She told him and the muscles in his jaw relaxed._

_He removed his arm and sleepily rolled onto his back to watch her get up and reach for the jug of water. She turned her back to him as she pulled out a small vial, dropping a small amount of the liquid onto her lips before hurriedly slipping it back into her smallclothes. She poured herself a goblet of water and pretended to drink until she placed it down on the counter again and looked back at Gendry who had a drowsy smile planted on face. He looked adorable with his hair sticking up in all different directions and it struck her how much she loved him. But what she was about to do might contradict that._

_She climbed back into bed, into his arms and rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat resonate through her ears._

_“You love me, don’t you?” she asked tentatively._

_He scoffed and kissed the crown of her head, “Don’t ask me stupid questions Arya.”_

_“And you will always love me, no matter what happens?” she continued, looking up at him._

_He cocked his eyebrow, “Of course love, what’s wrong?”_

_She took a deep breath and resisted biting her lip._

_“I love you with all my heart…” she said and moved closer, “I will always love you.”_

_She cupped his jaw with one hand and brushed his eyebrow with the thumb of her other one._

_“Arya…”_

_“Hush,” she whispered, “I’m not finished talking.”_

_“Arya, tell me what’s going on?” he asked worriedly._

_“I said shut up.” She said quietly and he did._

_“I love you… And what I’m about to do will make you hate me but I still love you, Gods… I’m sorry, I love you.”_

_She reached up and pressed her mouth to his while he protested, trying to pull her head away with his brows furrowed in anger. But it was only a few seconds later that his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body slumped against the pillow._

_She sat up and grasped for the fabric next to the bed she kept just for this purpose; wiping the sweetsleep from her lips. She looked down at him and began to sob…_

_She loved him…_

_She loved him more than anything in this world._

_But he would never let her exact the revenge she needed. Cersei Lannister had not caused every single wrong in his life. Arya would end her but that would mean leaving Gendry here and her going to King’s Landing._

_Of course, she would leave him._

_She climbed out of the bed and tucked him under the blankets and furs. Looking at his once again peaceful form lying on the bed made her heart sink. He would fine here, he could not leave. He was meant to be the Lord of Storm’s End and she was meant to be his lady. But he knew better than anyone that it was not her. She remembered telling her father so._

_She bent over and kissed on the cheek, then his temple, his freckled nose, both of his closed eyelids… She covered him in her kisses and let the tears fall silently. Getting up she tugged on new leather breeches and a dark tunic that was Gendry’s, sliding into her boots and lacing them up slowly. She took one last look at him and sobbed quietly._

_“I love you Gendry.”_

_And she pulled one of the many faces she had been carrying with her since Winterfell, grabbed her catspaw and Needle and headed to the window._

_Looking back at his form one more time, she opened the shutter..._

 

_And jumped._


	34. Sansa IX / Tyrion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives terrible news and Tyrion consoles women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter, apologies. But our first Tyrion POV so yay! Hope you enjoyed this little filler until we go back to Gendry. Assignments and exam revision is kicking my ass at the moment but I have the next chapter nearly finished so expect a update by the end of this week! 
> 
> thanks for everything guys.

**Sansa**

 

She was staring at the letter in hand; Jon Snow’s scratchy handwriting bearing back up at her. Catelyn Stark was rolling in her grave at the sight but she was not paying attention to the state of her brother’s font. She was staring at the words, _Arya is missing_ printed in bold at the top of the letter _._

The memories of their parting day, she remembered warning Gendry that Arya would most likely find a way to disobey him. It had been a joke at the time, knowing how eagerly Arya wanted to deface the bitch Cersei Lannister. But this letter was not just a few words, no Jon had written a whole page’s worth of ink.

“Lady Sansa? Is it Jon?” Daenerys asked her from across the table.

They had been breaking their fast together in her solar since the party left. Tyrion, Bran, Sam and Missandei usually joined them but Sansa had asked for privacy following the news of the letter.

She ignored the silver haired queen to read the next line, and the next until her head was spinning.

“My sister was pregnant with her first child…” Sansa said aloud and Daenerys looked up at her, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Was?”

Sansa gulped and started to read the letter out loud.

_Dearest Sansa,_

_Arya is missing._

_I believe she has gone to King’s Landing to kill Cersei. I know we initially thought she would do it straight away but there was something that would have stopped her… She found out she was with child during the journey and you should have seen the look on their faces sister. I’ve never seen a man so full of joy of the prospect of his future child. Well Arya fell ill when we arrived at Bronzegate and she was bedridden for a week. Gendry ended up holding the summit and one of the lords swore allegiance for Cersei and revolted. No one was hurt but Sansa. Fucking hells. A Faceless Man came for Arya. Thank the Gods she managed to protect herself but the baby... Fuck Sansa there was so much blood, I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. She screamed like a madwomen Sansa, I pray to Gods that you weren’t there. She went to sleep with Gendry that night but that’s when we couldn’t find her in the morning… Sansa she poisoned Gendry with sweetsleep so she could run away. Needle is missing and her catspaw too. Obviously, he is angry. Angry is probably an understatement and we both know that he won’t listen to anyone but her… He’s going to follow her whether I tell him to stay or not. He’s like her, he’ll do something brash. I need you to ask Daenerys to invade King’s Landing early. We have lost two of our best fighters. Stay in Winterfell no matter what, a Stark must always stay in Winterfell._

_Keep safe, and I will stay in touch._

_From your brother,_

 

_Jon_

Sansa looked up at Daenerys who gripped the table with such force that she was almost intimidated.

“No woman should ever have to lose their first child.” She said quietly and Sansa felt a tear prickle down her cheek.

Gods, she would have been an aunt. An aunt to a babe with blue eyes and dark hair. Gendry would probably have to physically stop Arya from naming them after some hero in the history books. What about after their parents? Arya would probably name her son after father… Eddard Baratheon. Yes, Gendry would approve of that. It sounded right. She could almost see her with the babe in her arms and him behind her, looking at two like they were the only stars in his galaxy.

But that prospect was blown out the window and Sansa was left with the grim telling of the child that was no more and the sister of hers that had run away on a suicide mission to kill Cersei Lannister of all people.

“What will we do?” Sansa asked Daenerys who sat grimly in her chair, her silver locks did not shine like they did in the sun in this lank room.

“Console your brother, rally the Unsullied, the Dothraki and the Northerners…”

“Most of the Northerners will not go down South, I am sorry Daenerys.” Sansa replied coldly.

“It is not your fault. Those men nearly saw the end of the world… Mine thirst for a battle. Burning Lannister supplies would hardly quench bloodlust.” Daenerys pondered, looking like she was drawing battle plans in her head.

“We need Tyrion.” They both said at the same time and they fell into a fit of laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Tyrion**

 

 

Tyrion Lannister stood on the battlements of Winterfell, reminiscing the last time he had ventured North with his sister, brother and Robert Baratheon.

It had been years since then and by the Gods it had been a shock to be back in that grim dark hall eating the same rashers of smoky bacon that he did on the last visit. Yet, instead of dealing with the cold bitch that he called a sister and the annoying and drunk late King, Tyrion was faced with a conflicting scenario.

Winterfell was deathly cold and hollow when it was silent.

It was not like there were children screaming and giggling down the halls before Gendry Baratheon and his she-wolf, Arya Stark took the party down South but it was almost _depressing_ how even Daenerys ate in silence sitting by the cold statuette; Lady Sansa Stark. He craved sound. Anything to fill these damned walls with some sort of life. And he thought that Ned Stark had been living in this. Despite what rumour circulated King’s Landing, Winterfell was a joyful place when filled with boisterous Northern lords and equally hearty feasts. Silence was for the nights he spent reading in the library, the candle burning lower and lower until the sun peaked out from the horizon. But even now while he looked down at the empty courtyard, Winterfell seemed as quiet as the dead they had only just previously buried.

“Tyrion.”

The Imp was broken out of his melancholic daze and was met with the unusual sight of Daenerys and Sansa Stark walking up to meet him, neither looking happy.

“May I help you my lady, your Grace?”

Sansa held a parchment in her hand, her lips set in a straight long line.

“Jon wrote a frantic letter to me from Bronzegate,” she hesitated and looked away, tears welling in her eyes, “My sister has lost her first child in the womb.”

Tyrion’s eyes met with Daenerys’ immediately and saw the same distant look residing in her purple orbs.

He admired the Stark girl and he approved entirely of the relationship she had with the blacksmith turned Baratheon lord. The two were forever bickering like an old married couple or looking at each other like they were the only ones in existence. He suspected that it would be inevitable that they would have a babe due to all that moaning he heard from the forge while walking outside at night. Gendry was the kind of lad who would make an excellent father but to hear that so abruptly halted explained the tears that fell from Sansa’s lashes.  

“My lady…”

“Arya has run away and defied my brother’s orders. She is heading to King’s Landing to kill your sister.” Sansa said in a long breath, the tears halting their passage down her cheeks.

“If we do not do something soon, she will be killed.”

“By who?” Daenerys asked, suddenly worried, “Your sister is one of the most skilled swordswomen in the land…”

“The Mountain.” Tyrion answered for his Queen and Sansa’s face turned stone cold once again.

“Who?”

“Gregor Clegane.”

“A relative of the Hound?” Daenerys queried.

“Brother and the cause for those ugly burns on his face. Supposedly he is undead.” Tyrion continued watching the unease creep up onto the Mother of Dragons’ face.

“He’ll be guarding Cersei.” Sansa said in a quiet voice.

“Yes, if she’s smart and we all know she is smart,” Tyrion sighed, tapping the ring on his finger against the wooden bannister, “And Cersei is mad and a fool. You never trust a mad fool.”

“And what of Euron Greyjoy?” Daenerys looked down at the quiet courtyard.

“Apparently, Theon rescued his sister from their mad uncle, destroying his entire fleet in the process. He wrote to me three weeks past.” Sansa replied.

“At least another mad fool has been vanquished.” The Dragon Queen muttered.

“And you trust the turn cloak Theon Greyjoy?” Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

“He saved my life, took me away from Ramsey Snow my lord, if you knew anything about him and what happened to Theon then you will understand why I forgave him.” Sansa replied formally.

The girl had turned into quite a formidable woman.  

“So, we only have to worry about Cersei and the Lannisters.” Daenerys thought aloud.

“Do not forget the Golden Company your Grace, my sister is a Lannister and if we are by any chance related, I can tell you a Lannister enjoys spending what gold they own.” Tyrion reminded her and the Queen’s shoulders sank.

“We have the Northerners, the Knights of the Vale, your Dothraki and Unsullied men your Grace. You need not to fear.” Sansa replied, looking down at the courtyard.

“But you said the Northerners…”

“Their princess is running to her death. They will join us under the orders of their king and their lady.” Sansa replied, the blue of her eyes bleak like ice.

“I may have something of consolation.” Tyrion told them.

“I doubt there is something of that regard, but do delight us my lord.” she said sarcastically.

He looked at Daenerys who smiled in remembrance.

“My dear brother is already in King’s Landing, on a diplomatic mission from our Queen herself.”

“Jaime? Why would he…”

“He asked if he would be the one to kill Cersei or die trying. It doesn’t matter though, as soon as it happens or rather as soon as an attempt occurs, we will begin the siege.” Daenerys revealed, playing with the sleeves of her dress.

Sansa’s mouth hung open in surprise.

“It was already advised before Jaime Lannister left that if Arya, like you warned us, would attempt to run way and kill Cersei that he would stop her and return her to Gendry.” The Dragon Queen continued.

“How do you know that Jaime will be able to stop my sister.”

“Well we can only try, can we not?” Tyrion smiled, trying to coax some happiness out the Lady made of ice.

“Yes, we can only try.”

And Sansa Stark, despite the letter that still curled in her hand, smiled for the first time in months.


	35. ~notice~

hi guys, 

 

Yes, I have deleted chapter 35 due to a number of reasons.

 

Firstly, I changed the plot of the chapter too many times in the document I wrote it in and did not proof read it afterwards - meaning that some of previous written dialogue and plot did accidentally make itself in the story.

 

Secondly, I was writing the chapter very quickly as a form of procrastination when I should have been focusing and studying for my examinations - which is why it was completely inaccurate in too many details.

 

Thirdly, I forgot certain HUGE details from season 7 (yes, thank you to person who called me out on the fact Jon did go to King's Landing). I haven't watched season 7 since it came out last year and have been recently relying on my knowledge of the books and seasons 1-5. This is completely my own fault and I apologise. Also, I stupidly made a statement regarding emotions that was very untrue and when I get around to completely fixing the chapter I will take this out. 

 

Finally, if you do have a problem with the way I portray my characters in this story then I am sorry but there are reasons why I am doing it. That is a component that will not be changing. I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF but this is my story.

 

Again, I am very sorry to the people who actually did read it - it was VERY poorly written and should not have been published. All I ask you guys is to give me a few more weeks to focus on my exams and I will be able to dedicate time to making this chapter enjoyable for everyone.  

 

See you soon, 

 

\- thelandofnothing


	36. Gendry IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gendry and jon go to king's landing and meet a familiar face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this took so long but here it is and I hope all of you enjoy it. i've hopefully fixed all the major mistakes from the previous version.
> 
> i'm working pretty intense (and long) hours this week in the lab and then I'm going away so I'll try and get the next chapter written out asap. I've already planned it out so now I just need to find the motivation to write it up without stressing over it too much. 
> 
> thanks so much for your patience and loving support guys, you all honestly make my day with all the lovely comments. my heart is warm with love. 
> 
> see you all soon (i fucking hope) 
> 
> \- the land of nothing

**Gendry**

Gendry could not recall a time he was this conflicted.

Sure, when Tobho Mott ‘sold’ him to the Night’s Watch he had been ready to punch a stone wall but sad enough to cry his eyes out, and that fight he had with Arya before their wedding was upsetting but this was an entirely different spectrum.

 _I love her,_ he kept repeating, but the more he said it the more he began to rock back and forth like a madman while he ground his teeth together so hard his jaw began to ache. He loved her, there was no doubting that but the problem was that the woman he had married, his _wife_ was far away in a city he had fought so hard to leave, most likely running to her death. And it was the actual fact that she had the _audacity_ to poison him so he would not stop her which overwhelmed him and any capability he had of thinking straight. In less selfish terms, her actions had otherwise thwarted any plans that Daenerys and Jon had envisioned for the long-awaited Siege of King’s Landing but he could not give a flying fuck about whose arse was sitting on that stupid throne. All he knew was that he had lost his first child and now he was half way to losing his wife. Her brother knew that he would have tacked a horse as soon as he got up and chased her to the Seventh Hell. Because this was a different kind of anger and somehow it was familiar. This was hurt.

Hurt, because every time he thought of her he pictured her bloodstained nightgown and the look in her eyes when she crumpled to the ground realising that she no longer carried their child, that there would be no babe to bring into the world, however fucked it was. The thought was devastating and it was the last thing he wanted to think about. But it was hard… Truly it was easily one of the most heartbreaking scenarios the Gods had thrust him in since they had taken his mother away from him. He wanted to pound a wall so hard that he would break all the knuckles in his hand leaving it bloody and useless like Arya had felt slumped in his arms. _Gods,_ missing her was the most painful experience he could deal with at the moment. He needed her more than anything and she had so selfishly run away like a scared child. He craved the way she would crawl into his lap to kiss him senseless or the sweet embraces they shared after making love or her face as she came while riding him. All he wanted to do was bury his face in her chest and cry his eyes out while she stroked his hair with her small fingers, pressing kisses to his forehead, to his temple. Gods, he would never love another for as long as he lived.

Nursing the tankard of ale, Gendry sported the heavy beard that Jon said made him look evermore the Baratheon. The Bucklers had given him clothing fit for a Stormlord; the heavy black leather breeches and a thick leather jerkin he was wearing now. But with nothing but liquor courage, he did not feel any part Baratheon or a stag.

 _He’s a bull,_ he heard his Arya snap in his head.

 _Yes, my love. I am a bull but I need my wolf. I need my wolf more than anything,_ he spoke to her in his mind.

 _I don’t need your protection,_ and it was almost the voice of hers when she had been a child.

_But you do, because I saw what happened in that room and you need me but you are too scared to admit it. Running away is not going to help us. I need you here._

Pathetic.

He was talking to his wife in his head. Arya would be cackling at him now.

_Stupid bull... I love you._

He finished his drink while the rain battered the walls around him.

“Gendry?” Jon called.

He turned around to the King in the North standing at the end of the empty Great Hall. He looked as haggard as Gendry felt with his unkempt hair and beard. The man still wore his furs like Gendry did and had dark circles under his eyes. He turned back to his drink and grunted in response.

Jon walked up to him and sat down beside him, sighing.

“You don’t drink.” he commented and Gendry let out a scoff.

“I enjoy an ale once in a while, let me be.”

“You’re angry with me for not letting you go after Arya, aren’t you?”

Gendry closed his eyes and winced. No one had her said her name since she left and he was not ready for such Northern bluntness.

“You know Arya and what she has wanted to do since we were in Winterfell is kill Cersei Lannister. And of course, if anything triggered the emotion, she would.”

“Gendry…”

“I’m not finished,” he barked, hearing the echo of his exhausted voice ring about the hall, “I love her, in a way that you cannot and I am not going to let my wife do something that will result in her death. It’s absurd Jon.”

“She’s my sister, I don’t want her to die as much as you.” Jon replied sullenly.

“We lost our child Jon!” Gendry shouted and even the air around them seemed to still, “You will never know what that is like, it’s incomparable to anything else in the world.”

For once, he had stunned Jon into silence until he dropped his head into his hands and let out a breath.

“I was so excited to be an uncle… Ever since you two told me I’d just be wondering what the little one would look like, if they’d be exactly like her… I’m sorry Gendry, you were right.”

“I’m going to get her.” Gendry said out of the blue causing Jon’s head to whip around.

“You can’t Gendry, you’re a lord and you have responsibilities.”

“She’s my priority.” He replied coldly.

“I know Gendry, believe me…”

“I’m going, I don’t care.” He got up and Jon went to put a hand on his shoulder.

“You need to think about what you’re doing.” Jon warned him.

“I am. I’m thinking about the safety of your sister, about _my_ wife.”

“I am your King…”

“Don’t pull that bullshit on me Jon,” Gendry scoffed and brushed the hand off him, “You will never understand what Arya and I went through, what being apart meant to us. I am not letting her die, she is my life.”

Jon sighed in defeat.

“Don’t get angry at her.” He said quietly.

Gendry raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Jon turned and faced him, his face serious.

“Don’t yell and shout at her when you do find her, wrap her up in your arms and bring her home. She’s hurting and this is how she’s dealing with it. In truth, she needs you. As soon as she sees you, she’ll rush to you, I know it, I know her.”

Gendry blinked at him and felt his heart constrict, tears prickling in his eyes.

“I miss her Jon,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair, “It hurts I miss her so much.”

“I know Gendry, I fucking know.”

Jon sighed heavily.

“You won’t yell at her?”

“No. I won’t, I promise you. I wouldn’t ever, not to her. She’s been through all Seven Hells. I lost a child that day too Jon.”

“]I should have never denied you the right to protect her but I’ll be coming too, just to keep your bull arse in check.”

“Thank you, brother.” Gendry placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a sad smile.

“I’m glad she married you out of all people.” Jon teased, “I mean you managed to marry her, that’s a feat in itself.”

“Gee, thanks.” Gendry scoffed.

“She really looked beautiful in the Godswood. Only time we’ll ever see her in a dress but… My father, Ned Stark… He would have approved of you and her. You make her so happy Gendry, better than any other stuck up stupid lord would.”

“She would have killed anyone else, let’s be honest.” He replied but his thoughts were automatically going to their wedding day.

She did look absolutely gorgeous that day; pale skin in a blue dress that matched his eyes. She was always beautiful, a different kind of beautiful. He hoped she was okay, he prayed to all Seven that she was. Because for the first time, he did not know if she was going to be safe.

“We should leave now.”

“Okay, let’s get some horses and packs.” Jon grinned.

Gendry’s heart lifted a little.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

By no surprise, it was raining again even when they were deep into the Kingswood. Gendry decided that he fucking hated the rain and apparently the storms from the coast kept the bloody place constantly under either a continuous drizzle or that horrendous humidity he experienced in King’s Landing. He knew his Arya would prefer snow than anything else but he thought, compared to all the other element they were both done with ice for a while and a little rain could never hurt.

Jon rode beside him; his Stark armour replaced with a common tunic hidden under a leather and thick wool cloak, his hair dripping from the wet. Gendry cursed his short-cropped hair that had been a rash decision whilst in King’s Landing a couple of years ago. The heat from the forge made any length past his ears absolutely unbearable. He settled for a thick scarf to cover his neck and ears as it was not Winterfell or North of the Wall they were dealing with and he could bear this cold. But, it would have been impeccably horrible if he did not have the close association with Jon which luckily, he managed to develop over the months fighting the wars with him.

Arya had not left him no kind of indication of where she was going in King’s Landing or how she was going to kill Cersei but if the latter had made her poison him with sweetsleep and steal away out their chambers from the top story of the keep, he was pretty convinced it had to do with the faces, something that he had voiced his dislike about nearly every time she brought it up. He had only heard of the Faceless Men from Arya in little bursts after the argument before their wedding. When his wolf was feeling particularly tender after their lovemaking, curled up warmly in his arms, she would tell him short memories of them. The Waif was the worst one and he had struggled to sleep through that night.

It had been a Faceless Man that had caused the death of their child and he could feel his veins filling with his notable anger once again, his fists curling on the leather of the reins as they kept plodding uselessly along at what Arya would consider a complete snail’s pace.

“Fuck it.” Gendry swore and kicked his horse into a gallop, prompting Jon to follow.

He would not have to explain his action to his good-brother. Bastards thought alike even though Jon was nothing near a bastard, not anymore. Nevertheless, Jon picked up speed beside him, his face grim as they both began to ride hard into the night.

 

After riding for two more days, both of them faced a giant crevice in the side of King’s Landing, overlooking Blackwater Bay.

“So this is what Davos used to get you out?” Jon asked, looking out to the bay with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Nah, we went out by a gate and took a boat out to Dragonstone. I know about this one because someone in Flea Bottom told me about it.”

“Looks small.”

Gendry winced.

It was small.

They would barely fit through especially with their weapons and the sun was setting quickly. But they couldn’t risk going through any other way; Jon’s look was too Northern and Gendry’s was too Baratheon even if he had been living under the Lannisters’ noses for years.

“Think there’ll be lots of guards crawling around inside?” Jon pondered, unbuckling his sword belt and cloak.

“There’s a big chance assuming the fact Cersei thinks Daenerys and a bunch of Northern rebels are coming down to whip her arse.”

Jon let out a long whistle.

“Have you killed anyone? Well, who wasn’t dead already?”

Gendry looked back at the beach and thought about the two guards he had killed with his Warhammer when he escaped with Davos. It had been easy, but something about this time made him uneasy.

“We’ve all had to kill to survive, no point feeling bad about it.” Gendry murmured.

It had been two easy kills and he had felt no remorse. He did not even regret it.

“I had to hang a boy at Castle Black,” Jon sighed.

“The one that killed you right?”

He bolted up and looked at him suspiciously.

“Who told you…” then he laughed, “Of course, Arya did”

Gendry smiled at that.

“Well she did tell me but it was actually Edd and Tormund who mentioned it first.”

“It was… It’s not the only person I’ve regretted killing…” he sighed again and looked back at the crevice, “I hope we don’t get fucking stuck.”

“I’m more worried about the bloody guards.” Snorted Gendry who squatted to inspect the hole they were supposed to crawl through.

Somehow, they were meant to get through that.

Arya would be rolling on the floor, crying in laughter.

_You look like a stupid bull._

_Well, who’s the stupid one here?_

“We’ll take our chances.” Jon sighed.

 “I would prefer not to die before I see my wife thank you very much.” Gendry replied sarcastically and a huge grin broke out on his good-brother’s face.

“Well, we’re going to have to kill these fuckers so you can see your wife.”

His fists curled at the thought of her roaming around the city somewhere.

 “Fuck me, I’m going to shit my pants,” Jon said and Gendry snorted.

“You killed the Night King Jon, what’s a few Lannister soldiers?”

“Well Cersei ‘invited’ the Golden Company so the Gods know who else is here.”

“And she’ll be introduced to Arya Stark soon enough, let’s get going.”

Jon knelt down and prepared to climb through.

 “From what I’ve heard about Flea Bottom from Davos it sounds like a shithouse.”

Gendry snorted.

“Worse?”

“You have no idea.” He replied.

Jon chuckled again.

“Must be glad to be out of there.”

“Don’t speak too soon.” Gendry grumbled.

“Whoops, I keep forgetting you married _that_ sister of mine.” Jon teased and he rolled his eyes.

“Go on, the sun’s set.”

It was true; the sun had disappeared under the horizon and their little spot by the wall was starting to shroud in darkness. Jon wiggled through the hole, using his feet to push himself. Once he managed to get out, Gendry chuckled him Longclaw, his belt and cloak also passing him his own Warhammer before getting down on his belly and repeating the same action Jon had.

But when he reached the other side and stood to get up; he was met with Jon with his sword raised at a figure approaching them. Hurriedly, Gendry blindly reached for his hammer getting into a _side-face_ fighting stance as the figure got closer and closer.

“Well look who we have here,” the voice called out.

“Who goes there.” Jon asked, his voice harder than Valyrian Steel.

“Well I know you don’t like me, your Grace. But I’m feeling a bit offended you can’t recognise me.”

Jon’s face lifted in recognition before returning to his cold gaze.

“Jaime Lannister.”

The man moved out the shadows and bowed mockingly.

Gendry had not much association with the man besides the fact that the Starks did not have good history with him.

“Your dear sister sent me a raven not long ago…” Jaime started before Jon cut him off.

“My sister is missing.”

“I meant the pretty one. Sansa Stark.” He emphasised.

Gendry’s jaw clenched and his so-called bull anger ebbed back into his veins _._

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you Lord Baratheon, your lady wife is a true Northern beauty and I can tell you from experience that she rivals her late aunt…”

“One more fucking word and I’ll…”

“I saw her.” Jaimie stated abruptly.

Gendry’s heart leapt up into his mouth.

“Where?” Jon asked.

“Flea Bottom, in the crowds today.”

“How do you know it was her?” Gendry asked angrily.

“I daresay there are many short Northern women trudging around this shit city,” he joked and Gendry exchanged a look with Jon, “Well, she was brandishing that skinny sword of hers. She’s going to kill Cersei, isn’t she?”

He saw Jon grimace but Gendry decided to remain optimistic.

He _had_ to find her.

“Could you lead us to her?”

“I don’t know where she is anymore, I did just say I saw her randomly.”

“And you didn’t follow her?” Jon asked

“My face is quite… What’s the word? _Prominent._ Someone would spot me almost instantly if I travelled through the crowds. You both are in that boat too.”

Gendry rolled his eyes; he hated being compared to Robert as much as Arya hated being compared to Lyanna.

“You’ve got your father’s fury, that’s for sure. But luckily you didn’t inherit his stupidity or you’d be absolutely fucked.” Jaimie observed, his voice lacking the usual spite it usually did.

“Agreed.” Jon said.

“They do always say it’s foolish to love during a war but most underestimate what a good motivator it is.”

 “And which lover were you referring to? Your sister or Brienne of Tarth?” Gendry retaliated and the Kingslayer’s face went slack.

“I can assure you that any love I once held for my sister is diminished. I mean, I saw you and the Stark girl fighting the dead. I remember it so clearly I could paint it. ”

Jon butted in, ignoring the conversation, “Weren’t you going to kill Cersei?”

Jaime snorted, “That was the original plan, yes. Cersei’s using the people as a blockade and has a portion of the Golden Company protecting the Red Keep and her. The rest will meet our armies out in the battlefield.”

“A waste of gold if I don’t say myself, Daenerys still has two dragons.” Jon stated.

“And she’s backed by most of the Realm.” Gendry added in.

“Cersei’s a mad fool but she’s got something up her sleeve,” Jaimie muttered, “Daenerys is not the kind of Queen to burn her people in their own homes but my sister is.”

“Wildfire…” Gendry whispered aloud.

“How’d you know about that?” Jaimie asked, surprised.

“I was smithing on the Street of Steel when she blew up the Sept of Baelor. Folks said the green flames scorched the air they were so hot,” Gendry retorted, “Even a fool would know Cersei Lannister was behind that.”

“Well she did get rid of all the Tyrells and the Sparrows in one go, so I would say it worked in her favour.” Jaimie rolled his eyes, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

Gendry studied the Kingslayer who leaned on his sword.

“That’s a fine Warhammer Baratheon, reminds me of the time Robert could actually stand and hold one.” Jaimie noted.

“Robert was a cunt.” He responded.

“All our fathers were except for Arya’s.” Jon mumbled, kicking the dirt around him.

“Shall we go then?” Jaimie said, “The Red Keep is well guarded at the moment but this is Arya Baratheon we’re talking about. From what I hear about her, she could probably slit a man’s throat with her eyes.”

Gendry eyed him dangerously, the love he felt for his missing wife surged through his blood.

“Her name is Arya Stark.”

Jaimie only smiled at him.

“It seems like they’ll be singing that name for some years to come.”

Gendry looked out onto the dark street, the familiar feeling of dread settling back on his shoulders.

“Yes,” he said, a smile slithering onto his face, “Yes, they will.”


	37. Jon IX / Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gendry rests, jon consoles and worries while jaime goes on an arya hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i took an entire lazy day to write this but i hope you guys like it 
> 
> jaime might seem ooc but he's on a journey of self enlightenment! also if you guys thought i was going to grace you with even more angst, you were wrong. arya is kinda in a very vulnerable state and only ran off as a coping mechanism and poor baby gendry just needs some arya cuddles and then he'll be alright.
> 
> hope you guys are having a nice day or night wherever you are, and keep going strong for the rest of the GoT-less year (catch me crying in the fucking club)

**Jon**

 

 

 

In the end they decided to follow Jaime through the darkened streets of King’s Landing, keeping to the shadows to avoid being found out. They all agreed to spend the night at a trusted inn and the innkeeper was a middle-aged woman with a serious lisp who somehow recognised Gendry as one of the smiths on the Street of Steel (however he could daresay he remembered her). She promised to keep her mouth shut and fed them some watery soup until sending them off to bed with a stern finger. Jaimie said he would slip out and continue looking for Arya while Gendry and he got some sleep which without doubt, they needed desperately. The shuffled into their shared room which had a small fire going in the corner with a scratchy looking bed taking up most of the space. Jon let out a moan and fell face first onto it, spreading his arms out to embrace the straw stuffed mattress like a long-lost friend but in the corner of his eye he saw Gendry move to the chair beside the fire, bending down and looking into the flames. He continued to watch the Bull as his hands shook and his breathing increased rapidly, the anxiety bouncing off him like wavelengths.

“Gendry?” Jon asked.

He did not respond.

“Gendry!” he called louder and the man jolted upright in the chair, his face taught with fear, “Are you alright?”

He inhaled and exhaled a few times before averting his eyes and burying his face into his palms.

“I can’t even think straight.”

Jon felt his throat constrict.

_The poor man. First, he loses his child and now my sister._

“She could be anywhere in this shit pile.” He murmured.

“Gendry, go to sleep. You haven’t rested for days.” Jon assured him firmly.

“How can I sleep when I don’t even know if she is alive or dead?” he replied solemnly.

“Exactly, we won’t know until we find her, which we will,” Jon quickly added, picking himself off the bed, “Go shut your eyes and I’ll keep watch.”

Gendry looked at him, then at the fire and then back at him. After a deep breath, he extracted himself off the chair and moved towards the bed.

 _Good, at least he bloody listened_.

“Wake me if anything’s amiss.” He warned Jon in a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Gendry tucked himself under the covers and turned on his side, eventually closing his eyes. Jon was glad for that as he moved to the chair that he was previously occupying and sat by the fire, relishing its warmth. Eternal winter had been stopped but now the Realm would have to endure its lasting effects.

It had been hour past when Jon heard something in the room just as he was accidentally falling asleep. He got up with Longclaw in hand and stalked the room; the dying embers of the fireplace were the only source of light in the small rooms. He stilled his movements, straining his ear to listen to what had made the disturbance until it sounded again and Jon could tell it was someone’s voice, murmuring or moaning. He walked over to the other side of the room where Gendry was laying and bent down. Sure enough, the smith turned lord was writhing in his sleep and calling out a few incomprehensible words, one which he easily picked up.

“Arya…”

Jon’s heart stammered for a moment. Gendry was definitely having a nightmare about something; the way he squirmed uncomfortably on the bed was easily the biggest indicator while Jon could see his scrunched-up face and his lips twisting to make unintelligible words.

“Arya… No love, come here.”

Jon moved out the way quick enough as Gendry swung his arm about like he was trying to attack someone.

“Gendry, wake up! Wake up, you’re having a nightmare!” Jon shook his arm but that just caused the Bull’s pained expression to worsen into anger.

“No, stay away from her! Leave her alone! ARYA!” he yelled in his sleep and Jon inhaled deeply before slapping him hard in the face.

Gendry rose from the bed with a large gasp, tears streaming down his face and his body shuddering with each breath.

“You’re alright, you’re okay just breathe.” Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him as Gendry struggled to regain his composure.

“Gods Jon, there was so much blood,” he sobbed, burying his face into the palms of his hands, “And I couldn’t do a thing to help her.”

Jon continued to stroke his back in comfort as the man took the time he needed to calm down.

“We’ll find her. I swear to the Gods brother, we will find her and bring her home.” Jon promised him and Gendry only sobbed louder and hugged him closer.

It was then that Jon’s heart shattered; the memory of holding Ygritte in his arms as she took her last breath flooding his field of vision. Her auburn hair littering his lap and her husky voice as more and more bloody gurgled out of her mouth. Jon did not want that happening to Gendry or himself ever again; they had survived the War of the Dawn, the wights, the War of the Five Kings. They had survived living out in the harsh world alone, separated from loved ones and family for years. All they had to do was finish what they started.

But for now, in the growing darkness of the room, all that Jon could do was hold his good-brother and try and stop the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes just like they poured from Gendry’s.

_Arya please come home._

_Come home baby sister._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Jaime**

 

 

 

Jaime did not have much insight on what the younger Stark girl had done but he knew it had been enough for her brother and husband to follow all the way in the most dangerous city they could all be in. He had been surprised enough when Daenerys Targaryen had asked him personally to carry out the extermination of his own sister, his gut coiled with disgust every time he thought of that vile woman while she waited on the Iron Throne with hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians to spare. He thought about the undead Mountain, who stayed glued to her side and that sick looking maester, Qyburn. Where had she found all these monstrosities? The only thing that crossed his mind as he went to sleep was killing that woman even if it meant his own death. He smiled when he recalled Brienne asking to accompany him and was grateful ten-fold when the cold Lady Stark had refused. The more he broke away from the mind clutches of his repulsive sister he was beginning to allow himself to the affection he felt for the giantess. He compared it to what the bastard lord must have felt for his she-wolf as they both were no perfect lovers, both women were deemed Westeros’ best swordswomen and no man would dare test that except that Jaime knew that Brienne of Tarth could be a blushing maid when pushed far enough and the younger Stark was no better. Everyone in Winterfell had heard the two countless of times or seen them share hidden caresses in the dark hallways. Arya Stark was even wilder than her late aunt and he might have laughed when he mentioned Robert Baratheon to Gendry. He had never seen someone more disgusted with the late king other than his sister. But still, Jaimie was warily reminded of the past, hoping to the Gods that they would end up with more peace than the previous generation. Not like they had started with much.

Jaime covered his face tighter with the hood he was wearing and trudged down the street, keeping his loud thoughts in his head as he searched the streets for a glimpse of Arya Stark. Daenerys had warned him to look out for her earlier on almost as a joke as the list of people the she-wolf wanted to kill with Cersei Lannister right at the top was no hidden secret amongst those at Winterfell. For such a small woman, she had an impressive amount of bloodlust which fired through her Stark blood. He crossed another alley and quickly took a moment to look down it, scanning it until he looked up and saw a figure huddled near the corner, shuddering. He switched his sword his good hand and bent forward to remove the hood of the figure with the point of the blade very slowly until he moved suddenly as the figure got up and released their own blade.

A very prominent one.

“Well, I was told you would be a very hard girl to find. Yet I find you only a few streets down where your brother and your lord husband are resting.”

Arya removed her hood and glared at him, putting the skinny sword back in its sheath.

“What did you just say?” She spat, “Gendry is in the Stormlands and so is Jon. They both have responsibilities.”

Jaime just laughed at her and sighed, “I thought you were smart Stark, your bastard and his father unfortunately share one mutual trait and that’s their love for Stark women. Robert started a war for one and well yours… He would tear apart this city with his bare hands to find you. I thought you knew him.”

He was impressed by her ability to keep a perfect composure even when she asked him the next question.

“Why would they trust you?” she took her catspaw out and twirled it around over her fingers.

“You can ask your husband that, Lady Baratheon.” He told her, wary of the way she wielded the weapon.

She studied him for a moment.

“Don’t mock me.” She hissed through her teeth.

“Someone told me you could tell when a man tells true and when a man lies. I think you can see the truth Arya Stark but you just don’t want to believe it.”

She didn’t move a muscle, only her grey eyes slithered up and down his form.

“You should listen to me and come back. Your brother is worried about you and your husband…”

“You shut up,” she snapped, “You and your sister, all you’ve ever done is cause everyone and my family pain. First my brother, then my father. My mother trusted you!”

“And all I have done is watch! I have never carried out or even wished the death of your family! I had no idea about the Red Wedding and I never anticipated that monster to cut off your father’s head.”

“You threw my brother out a window!” she seethed at him.

“And for that I will pay the price.” He firmly told her and her eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Jaime sighed and pictured Brienne’s blue eyes and angry face as she ripped through enemy after enemy. After his hand had be sliced off by that Bolton dog, he reduced all hopes that he would be able to fight like he once did. Right now, he would be fresh meat even to a street bandit let alone _the_ Arya Stark.

“My defeat will mostly likely come from attempting to kill my sister.”

Her eyebrows furrowed.

“I am no match for the Mountain, maybe years ago when I had two hands but not anymore but I will die trying.”

“He’s big and slow…”

“Big and slow yes, but did you ever hear of the Viper and the Mountain. Oberyn Martell was a strong warrior. He’s Dornish and cocky but nevertheless a good fighter but his eyes were squeezed out his skull.”

The girl winced.

“And I bet you’re probably better than that, I heard you killed two Faceless Men. But you still would be no match for him.”

Her eyes went wide and the hand holding the catspaw shook.

_Oh, so that’s what happened to her babe._

“All I’m asking you to do is go back to your family who want you alive. I have seen many years in this horrid country and it would be no great sacrifice until Daenerys and the armies come here.”

“What?”

“You think Jon didn’t immediately send notice to your sister when you went missing?” he asked her, chuckling, “Jon asked for the invasion to occur earlier to ensure your safety.”

She looked back at the Red Keep and then back at the road, biting her lip.

“Arya, I need to apologise for all that my family and I have done to yours and this is how I am going to pay you all back. My sister has had me wrapped around her little finger since I was child.”

She breathed deeply.

“You’re right. It should be you.”

Jaime’s head snapped back upright.

“What did you say?”

“I said it should be you who kills her.” She repeated in a serious voice.

“Thank you.” Jaimie sighed, leaning on his sword.

“Gendry’s here?” she asked silently.

_They were right, love does make you weak._

“With Jon in a safe place, I can take you with me.”

He turned around but in the corner of his eye he saw her hand go to her stomach until it dropped limply.

_The poor girl._

“I will come with you on one condition.” She said sternly.

Jaime spun around and observed her as she put her catspaw back under her cloak.

“You will let me kill her if you fail.”

He went silent.

“Well?” she asked, shifting her feet in impatience.

“That’ll be up to your brother but I’ll let you. Just don’t run away from your Bull again, he’s hurting as much as you are.” He reminded her and she went still.

“You love him, I can tell.” He said softly.

“He won’t let me fight in this war, neither will Jon.” She contemplated, her face becoming conflicted.

“Jon and Gendry are not your parents, you cannot have them tell you what to do and how to behave like a child.”

Arya regarded that comment thoughtfully for a second.

“Men are simple like that, just talk to them and reason with them. You are a fighter and your place will be in this war like it was in the last.”

And for the first time she smiled the sweet one of a woman in love.

“Take me to them.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Jon**

 

 

He had managed to put Gendry back to sleep but the tears were still evident on his face until there was a short knock on the door. Jon checked if the Bull was still sound asleep and went to check, pressing his ear on the wood.

“Who’s there?” he asked quietly.

“It’s Jaime, open up. I have someone who wants to see you.”

Jon creaked the door open ever so slightly to see the Kingslayer leaning on the corridor wall with a hooded figure standing behind him.

“Take off your hood.” He heard Jaimie say to the person and Jon raised an eyebrow.

They stepped towards the door and hesitated a moment before moving their gloved hands to cape of the hood, removing it in one fluid motion. Jon’s heart stopped.

Arya was standing right before him.

“Hello brother.”

He could not conjure his muscles to move not even the ones in his face to even make a movement to recognise her. But thanking the Gods he did not have to as she moved against his body and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head against his chest. It was only then that he could physical start breathing again.

“Where have you been?” he whispered, bringing his arms around her and kissing the crown of her head, “We’ve all been so worried.”

“I know but I’m here,” she replied almost darkly, “But you will let me fight this war.”

“Arya, don’t be stupid we’re all going home…”

“No listen to me, I am not a child any longer Jon. I have seen things that most men could not even comprehend seeing in their lifetime and I have been through such atrocities that _you_ would never be able to even understand. But there’s one thing you know, something that’s been in my nature ever since I was born ten and eight years ago in Winterfell. I am a fighter and no one is going to tame me not even Gendry.” She finished confidently, breaking away from his embrace to stare him seriously in the face.

Jon could only sigh.

“Please just never run away from him or me again, okay?”

“Where is he?” she asked, worry taking over her face.

“Sleeping, he’s not coping well Arya. He needs you.”

“Well I am here.” She said solemnly, looking back Jaime, “Thank you Kingslayer, we have misunderstood you.”

“You do not have to thank me Stark.” He replied, bowing his head.

“Come on you.” Jon smiled sadly and let Arya pass him through the room.

“She meant that, I know I haven’t been the nicest bastard…”

Jaime snorted, “Don’t get sappy on me Snow, keep safe.”

Jon smiled and reached out to shake his hand.

“You too Lannister.”

And with that, Jon closed the door and sighed deeply in relief, grateful that the Gods had been less cruel on this frightful night.


	38. Arya IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arya and gendry are reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would just like to say a big thank you to everyone for supporting this story. it has been such a wonderful journey and I have been so grateful for all the love and praise all of you have showered on this work!
> 
> also a big thank you and congrats to all the people who contributed to arya x gendry week, i really loved reading the different stories! (i didn't participate due to procrastination, I got the first prompt down and it was already Wednesday ha) 
> 
> But enjoy this chapter and I hope to see you all soon 
> 
> \- lots of love x

**Arya**

 

 

 

 

Arya scanned dark encompassed room, treading lightly on her feet with Needle bouncing on her outer thigh. She felt like she was Nymeria again; hackles raised while she circled the bed like she was hunting it. Gendry took up most of the space on the bed but she could tell he was lying to his left side ever so slightly, leaving the right open for the body of a smaller person who should have been there with him. She controlled herself and listened for his tell-tale sign of his definite slumber that could easily fill this small room with noise. Instead, she heard his breath, short and husky, rapidly sounding against the pillow. Her love had a habit of sleeping on his front usually due to him slumping face-first into bed after an exhausting day of working the forge. Arya could not see his face but she knew he was beyond tired. Gendry always slept so lightly that the smallest sound woke him and even she who trained as an assassin and could tread as quietly as a cat would cause him to jolt awake at her slightest movement. She took a step closer to him just to prove it but her gentle bull slept on.

Arya had time to think about killing Cersei as she stole around King’s Landing for the weeks after she escaped Bronzegate and she knew that leaving Gendry alone had been the worst decision she could have possibly made. She had easily been able to sneak her way into the Red Keep undetected multiple times; using the face of a simple young tavern girl she had stolen from the Hall of Faces to enter the kitchens and hide in the shadows, studying the guards’ rotations and scouring for any sight of the false Queen. She had only seen Cersei once while infiltrating the Keep and the very sight of her caused all sorts of jolts of emotions to rush through her blood and it was through literal physical restraint that stopped her from rushing at the Lannister bitch. The only problem that was hindering her murderous motives was the tallest and most imposing man or _thing_ that Arya had ever had encountered in her entire existence. She remembered the Mountain at Harrenhal, a big brute of a man who stood feet taller than any othe but he turned into something much more. She knew of his undead state which was comparable to a wight only when he demonstrated his physical abilities of immense strength when a lowly peasant had uttered words in disagreement to the Cersei. The brains and flesh of that man had been smeared right across one of the Keep walls. It was decided from there that Arya would be able to cross two names off her list but she would wait until the right moment. In this moment, she needed to be by Gendry and Jon’s side to ensure Daenerys the Iron Throne.

Arya Stark was brimming with vengeance and her time for blood had come near.

“I’m glad you came back.” Jon mumbled behind her and Arya shook herself out of thoughts.

“I know I was wrong. I know I was fucking selfish,” Arya admitted, hating how cold her voice had become, “Being away from my two favourite men was harder than I could comprehend.”

Jon’s face scrunched up in the way hers did sometimes as though he disagreed with her joking in such manner.

“He’s going to be the happiest man alive when he wakes up with you in his arms.” Jon said, his eyes trained on Gendry.

“You always manage to sound like you’re in pain when you talk of Gendry and I. There’s no point hiding anything from your favourite sister.” Arya snorted softly.

“You’re a pain in my arse, did I ever tell you that she-wolf?” Jon teased lightly, bumping shoulders with her.

Arya smiled and looked back at her sleeping husband.

“You might need to find another room.” Arya motioned, and Jon rolled his eyes.

“You should be thanking the Gods you’re married to him or I’d be kicking both your arses to opposite ends of the country.”

“Shouldn’t you be planning a siege?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Very funny.” He sneered at her and turned to the door, but she stopped him with her fingers latched around his wrist.

“Thank you for being there for him.” She said, and he smiled gently at her.

“You would probably have tried to gut me if I hadn’t baby sister, but you know I would do anything for you.”

“It seems you and your good brother share a mutual trait of many.” She winked at him and pulled him down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good night Arya.”

“Good night Jon.”

He passed through the door and closed it quietly, mindful of Gendry who still slept on oblivious to anything happening outside his own subconscious state. Arya began to strip of her leather jerkin and breeches, placing Needle and her belt on the table by the fire. Once she only wore her oversized tunic and her small clothes underneath, she lifted the covers of the bed and snuck both her legs under the furs, moving underneath Gendry’s arm until her nose was centimetres from his temple. She kissed it tenderly, tapping him lightly a few times to try and wake him from his slumber. He murmured in his sleep a few times, his arm instinctually tightening around her frame and she smiled at him.

“Gendry, wake up.” She whispered near his ear, shoving him harder.

He made a low growl like sound in the back of his throat, but she could tell he was still dreaming.

“Go to sleep love.” He mumbled naturally, like she had been there the entire time

Her heart began to throb painfully at the sound of his voice, tears welling in her eyes. It was a reminder of all the pain that she had run away from, the place where she was loved. She sat up and swallowed the lump in her throat

“Gendry, please.” She asked more persistently, hitting his back.

At that, Gendry shot upright, the blues of his eyes thrashing like waves breaking against cliffs. It was then that the sob that she was holding in wracked her entire body and she launched herself onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and climbing into his lap. She inhaled in the scent of him; pine, sweat and metal while she shuddered against him.

“Arya?” He whispered, as though he could not believe she was there.

The tears spilt from her lashes as his strong arms circled around her back and held her tightly.

“I’m here, I swear I’m here and never leaving again,” She promised, refusing to let go as he crushed her to his chest, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond and the silence began to feel hollower than the Winterfell crypts as the sound of their breathing echoed around the room. She broke away to look at him and trace her fingers along his jaw that sported a full beard and she decided that she liked it. He stared back at her, blue eyes glistening hopefully.

“You came back,” He said and she smiled so hard her cheeks burned, “You’re really here?”

“I am.” She assured him.

“Thank the Gods.”

He sighed and bent his head forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“You came for me?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Arya, _of course._ ”

“I’m sorry for being so stupid.” She tucked her nose in the crook of his neck.

He kissed her temple, “As long as you’re safe I’m fine.”

He brushed his hand over her belly and she jolted at the movement, looking at him quizzically. He gave her a sad smile and she instantly relaxed.

“You’re not in pain anymore?” he asked.

“No, there’s no more blood or anything. It feels normal again.” She told him reluctantly, placing her hand on his.

He winced and looked back up at her, his hand moving to cup her face.

“Never again Arya, please don’t ever leave me my love.” He stuffed his nose into her hair and brought her close.

“Never.” She said, kissing his neck.

He shuddered when she reached his earlobe and starting sucking, reacting harshly by pulling away from her touch.

“Arya, are you sure?” he asked worriedly but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him on top of her.

“I am, my bull.” She whispered and covered his mouth with a kiss until he pulled away again.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Arya resisted laughing in his face as he stared down at her.

_Sometimes, I think he forgets how gentle he is with me._

“You could never hurt me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath but soon bent over her again, his fingers gliding over the hem of her tunic.

“I love you Arya.” He said, so quiet that his words were barely audible.

“And I love you.” She said back confidently enough that he couldn’t help but kiss her again.

He raised the tunic up and over her head, moving a tentative hand to her nipple that perked at the cool air.

“I’m not going to break Gendry.” She told him, and his eyes flickered up to hers.

She would never break in his arms because she was steel with him, only malleable under his craftmanship and his love.

“I always thought you so brave, I still do,” he murmured, ghosting his fingers up her waist, “You never seemed scared of anything when we were children.”

His hands travelled up her ribs and to her solar plexus where he replaced his fingers with his lips, his hot breath making her squirm in anticipation.

“I was scared plenty Gendry, I was _terrified_ in Harrenhal and in Braavos...”

“So, you ran away… Because you were scared?” he tested, and she drew a sharp breath of air.

“That and I was… I was angry, and I just had this overwhelming desire to just kill _her_. I couldn’t think straight and so… My coping mechanism was to run, yes. Maybe because I knew you and Jon would never let me go.”

He watched her. The blues of his eyes swirling so vibrantly in the darkness of their room.

“And now?”

She looked up, startled at his words.

“I guess… I want to fight Gendry, one last time. I want to see Daenerys on the throne, so we don’t have to fight anymore wars, so _our_ children won’t have to.”

He winced at her last statement but said nothing else, averting his gaze and leaning his head on her chest.

“Are you angry at me?” she asked quietly, threading her fingers through his hair.

He looked back up at her, resting his chin on her body. She found herself lost in those eyes, eyes that she slowly realised no one else got to see like this. Not with his irises shining and a small smile on his lips, dark thick expressive eyebrows, the thick beard covering his sharp and strong jaw. He seemed to be regarding her question; the cogs in his brain turning while she sat patient for his answer. At last, recognition lit his face and he stared at her more intensely.

“I’m not angry…” he started but she knew there was more to be said, “You hurt us Arya.”

“I’m not talking about Jon, Gendry. He wasn’t to be the father of my child, he’s my brother.” She told him firmly.

He softly sighed.

“I was hurt that you weren’t there for me when I was there for you.”

It felt like someone had punched her hard in the stomach for all the air was leaving her lungs, making her dizzy.

“Look Arya, yes I was hurt but more than that… I was worried, love, worried that I’d never see your face again. Never hear you call me stupid or see you spar in training yard. That I’d never get to spend another night like this with you,” he motioned so by running a hand up her side until her breath shuddered, “See? Every little thing you do makes me fall right back in love with you every day. I can’t lose you Arya.”

She felt tears welling in her eyes, but they didn’t break because he was already leaning up to kiss them away.

 “We’re going to fight.” he told her.

She stared dumbfounded at him. And the more she stared at him, the more the memories soaked her field of vision and soon it was Gendry asking her to take her cock out and piss when they were children, or Gendry in Harrenhal when she told him to stand side-faced, or how the light caught his glassy eyes when he told her he was staying on with the Brotherhood. And then it was all the recent memories; when she punched his lights out in the Godswood but hugged him so fiercely before and when she found out he was in love with her and the fights they had but somehow, they both ended up married in front of the Old Gods and everyone in Winterfell after the Long Night where she nearly lost him. But… Then there was his face when they learnt she was with child and his face when she lost their child. But now it was only him in this dark room while he leant up over her.

“All we’ve been doing our entire life is fighting.” She said.

“I know, sometimes I wish we could spend an age by ourselves some place where there are no wars.”

“But then nothing exciting would happen.” She teased.

“Gods, you’re stubborn.”

“You didn’t marry a complaint woman.” She reminded him.

“No, I married you and you are a warrior,” He told her, moving to where her smallclothes and her waistline met, “And being married to you is basically like fighting a war.”

She whacked him on the top of his head and he chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrated against her skin.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” He continued, peeling off the fabric with his teeth all the way down the top of her thigh, “Sometimes it’s good to get that rage out.”

_Ours is the fury._

It was her turn to chuckle, bringing a hand up to stroke his beard when she rose up to kiss him again.

“I quite like this.” She stated.

“The beard m’lady?” he asked, nuzzling her cheek and she giggled.

“Hmm,” she hummed, enjoying his weight over her as it pinned her to the bed, “It suits your eyes.”

“Suits my eyes does it?” he repeated thoughtfully.

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” She scolded him, relaying back to their common usual banter.

“Well if m’lady likes it then her lord will keep it.” He winked at her before disappearing down to the apex of her thighs and her breath hitched.

“Gendry.” She sighed as he kissed her mound before delving his tongue into her folds.

Her hands instantly found his hair and she pulled as he continued to assault her cunt with all sorts of wonderful feelings. She thanked the Gods he had a firm hand on her hip as they bucked wildly when he lapped at her like a man dying of thirst while his free hand stroked her clit lazily. It was all too soon until she was seeing stars and she came blissfully into his mouth. Her smith seemed all too satisfied with his handiwork and sat up, licking his fingers one by one while looking directly at her.

_Stupid bull._

But he was her stupid bull, and no one else’s.

He slid up her body to kiss her deeply and there was no other time to insult him, only time to sigh into his mouth as she tasted herself on his tongue and felt his stiffness underneath his breeches.

“It’s only fair if we’re both undressed.” She whispered near his ear and felt him shudder.

“As m’lady commands.” He bowed and got off her before she could hit him again, shucking his breeches off faster than she could have proved human.

And once again, he covered her with his body and kissed her so deep that she forgot where she was for a moment. It was only when his cock was at her entrance when she came crashing down to reality.

“Are you completely sure?” he asked her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yes, my sweet bull.” She assured him, snaking a hand to where they nearly joined.

She grabbed hold of his cock and his breath stiffened as she began to give his manhood tentative strokes up and down. At one stage, his eyes fluttered closed and heard him whisper her name softly as he buried his head in the crook of his neck.

He supported his weight over her with his elbows on either side of her head while she took courtesy to line his staff at her entrance until his hips pushed gently into hers. They both sighed at the feeling they had missed after weeks and weeks of being apart and it was soon until Gendry deepened his thrusts and she pivoted her pelvis to meet with his strokes, wrapping her legs around his back. She resorted to biting her lip to stifle her moans that were slowly becoming cries and she could tell from his scrunched-up eyes and the way he kept his head in the crook of her neck that he was struggling to minimise the grunts of his exertion. Soon, despite their efforts to keep quiet, he let out a yell of her name as he came inside her, and she followed him soon after, clutching to his body with her heels still digging into his shoulder-blades. He collapsed to her side, panting loudly before turning around and looking at her deeply.

She stilled and felt him turn around, so he was lying on his back, an arm thrown out to her side of the bed like an invitation for her to curl up against his chest and even though they were both hot from love making, the chilly air left goose bumps on her bare skin, sending tingling sensations all down her legs and arms. She scooted over and inserted herself onto his side, placing her head on his heart and placing a hand on his solar plexus. Soon, his strong around locked around her waist and their legs tangled, the silence in the room was deafening and only their breathing could be heard. It was only when he moved down to kiss her gently that she could make out someone on the street yelling profanities.

“We need to sleep.” He told her, but she leant up to kiss him again.

He kissed her back but then pulled away, leaning his head back on the pillow so she couldn’t reach his lips anymore.

“Go to sleep.” He insisted, and she huffed, bringing her leg to wrap against his front brushing his cock on purpose.

Her love positively jerked and raised an eyebrow at her.

“We should talk.” She suggested but he wasn’t having it.

“We can talk tomorrow Arya, you must be tired.”

“I’m not though.” She said, and he rolled his eyes.

“Well I am, come on love, just sleep and I promise we’ll have time to talk in the morning.”

She studied him for a moment and took a moment to regard the bags under his eyes and the way his skin was a little ashen. Sleep could never hurt, not with him.

“Okay, let’s sleep then.” She surrendered, and he sighed with relief, craning his neck to press his lips to hers.

Once he pulled away, he kissed the crown of her head and she lay on his chest, hearing his heart beat soundly and feeling the lull of his rhythmic breathing. He stroked her waist up to her rip cage, pulling the covers and furs more snugly across their naked bodies.

“Good night Gendry.” She whispered once the room was stilled with silence.

When he didn’t respond straight away, she thought he must have fallen asleep but then suddenly he moved and kissed her temple.

“Good night love.”


	39. Daenerys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after Arya Stark returns to Jon and Gendry, Daenerys plans for the war ahead but not for the one in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much for 29 000 hits. i cannot express my gratitude in words!
> 
> i'm sorry for such a long wait for the new chapter but here it is, and nearly the end of the story!
> 
> enjoy!

**Daenerys**

 

 

 

 

Daenerys had only flown over the fields surrounding King’s Landing on Drogon, watching the green fields and pastures whirl under her as the wind caressed her face. But now as she sat upon her grey mare looking out onto the endless expanse of greenery from a different view, she was oddly reminded of a time she rode in Dothraki garb with the thousands of others in the khalasar with Drogo leading. She had not thought of him in many moons; the wars had forced her to think of little else but politics, alliances and battle strategies. She did not miss being Drogo’s khaleesi, she thrived in her own energy being a Queen and he would not have let her do that. She shook her head and kept looking forward, feeling her horse move underneath her. Jon Snow was beside her, looking as brooding as ever still in his furs, a fraction of their armies behind them; the Unsullied, the Northerners, the Knights of the Vale and now the Stormlords. She admitted that the wind had a slight chill to it, they had managed to defeat the dead, but winter was still coming. She had heard the people of Winterfell before she left say that this one would a short one.

 _We ended what could have been an eternal winter,_ she thought to herself.

The Long Night was all but a memory for bards to write songs about now. A Dragon Queen, a White Wolf, A She-wolf, a Bull and many others. They were famous names everywhere, the news of the battles spread far and wide.

“Do you think she’ll come out to meet us?” she heard the voice of Arya Stark sound near her.

She turned her head to see the small Stark girl look to her husband whose eyebrows were furrowed.

“No, Cersei’s smarter than that. She’ll send an envoy.” Jon answered for her.

She was glad that he and Gendry had found Arya when she ran away, losing a child was something that she completely understood. If she had the energy, she would have run far away as well. But the Lady of Wolves sat strong in the saddle, her posture was confident, and her nose was held up high.

_I am very glad I made quick allies with the Starks._

It was then when her thoughts were disturbed as she saw Jon’s face darken. She looked ahead and saw a lone rider far off into the distance, closer to the bustling locked down city.

“Golden Company?” she whispered to Tyrion.

“One way to find out your Grace.” He answered wistfully.

She pursed her lips and looked back at the horse and its rider who were making their way closer.

“What if he means to attack us?” she asked again and beside her she heard Gendry snort.

“That’d be suicide.”

They could now see the rider approaching. He was a tanned man, notably Essosi with a jaw covered with a dark beard. The horse he rode must have been eighteen hands at least and she could see two swords on his weapons belt. Once he was a few feet away, he slowed his horse, the winds blew the hair out his face.

“You stand in the presence of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And King Jon Snow, King in the North.” The strong voice of Missandei called out.

The man bowed in his horse albeit a little mockingly and she felt her fingers dig into her mare’s mane.

“I am but a lowly sellsword, here on behalf of Queen Cersei Lannister. She wishes to discuss peace.” The man said, his voice thick with an accent that she could not quite place.

“And how much is she paying you?” Tyrion asked in his typical wise man voice and for that she was grateful.

“Enough,” the man replied with a smirk, “I have come to negotiate peace.”

“We will discuss terms of surrender with Cersei Lannister, not a sellsword.” Daenerys quipped, earning the eye of every man around her.

“Oh, the Queen didn’t mean her peace. She meant yours.”

“I think you’re mistaken, does Cersei have a few dragons holed up under the Red Keep now?” Tyrion answered.

The man stuttered and almost looked nervous for a moment before regaining his composure.

“These are her words, not mine; You are to lay down your armies and kneel before her. If you do not, the city will burn.”

“And do you and your fellow comrades wish to burn Ser?” Daenerys tested, and the fear returned to the man’s eyes.

“Either one you pick, everyone will.” He answered.

“I will not burn innocents,” she assured, “But I have every belief that the false Queen who sits in that Keep will, she’ll burn every man in your Golden Company and every woman and child. She’ll burn the streets and the shops, the forges, the bakers, the tailors. She’ll burn everything in that city if she continues to rule and she does not care. Not about you and not about anyone else and then who will be paying you?”

The man hesitated, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I have dragons, yes but I have used them for greater purposes. Together as an army, my allies and I defeated the Night King and the Army of the Dead. If we had lost, Westeros and Essos would be shrouded in eternal winter.”

The man’s horse stepped back, sensing the growth of tension. Arya stepped forward, the greys of her eyes swirling with something unknown and her voice was ever so quiet.

“Go back to Cersei and tell her Queen Daenerys will not bend the knee, King Jon will not bend the knee, no one in this army will,” the girl walked forwards like she was stalking her prey, “Tell her to rest well tonight for she and all of her friends are going to die tomorrow.”

The man spluttered and nodded furiously before leading his horse around and setting off into a gallop. Arya returned to the line, smiling gently at her husband.

Daenerys turned her head to Jon who was watching her intently.

“We leave at first light.”

And he nodded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once the night had fallen, she found herself and her closest war companions crowded around a map of King’s Landing and the land surrounding it. Wooden wolves, dragons, stags and falcon for the Knights of the Vale. Everyone was exhausted as she knew that bringing armies together was not an easy task. After Arya had been found, Daenerys had arrived South with the Northerners, the Unsullied and the Knights of the Vale, meeting the Stormlords who only just recently joined the cause after meeting Gendry, their new lord. They had taken a liking to him it seemed mayhaps because the man was the spitting image of his father. It had also helped that Arya, his lady wife had the men whispering the name _Lyanna Stark_ wherever she went and the presence of them both in the same expanse of space was truly a sight to behold. Their energies matched each other, both once children of war but now generals and nobles of Great Houses and greater love. The man rarely smiled apart from whenever Arya appeared at his side, but it was nice to see her allies without their bloodstained armour and their eyes dark. Everyone in the tent looked… _Normal._ Jon was wearing leathers, pointing at the board and talking passionately about battle tactics while Lord Buckler and Lord Royce listened amiably. It was Lord and Lady Baratheon who seemed to catch her attention as Gendry sat in a chair and Arya on his lap laughing at one of Tyrion’s japes. The Baratheon man did not seem to be paying attention to whatever smart jests her Hand were making but instead his eyes were on his wife while she cackled nearly spilling ale all over them both. Gendry had every right to be looking at her like that; Arya truly was a sight to behold, a Northern beauty as they came but she still held that deadly aura that every man feared. Her brown hair lay free of the short braid she normally wore down her back and it hung loose past her shoulders, tucked behind her ears. Gendry was still looking at her like she was the only person in the entire world with a hand sturdy on her waist and she fell back against his chest while she was laughing, and it took one look at her husband before they were kissing softly until she pulled away and smiled up at him, bumping their noses together.

Daenerys felt something uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach as she looked away at Jon who was also laughing the same way Arya had, the kind that bubbled out of their belly and shook their entire body.

_We might die tomorrow. All of us. It may be the last night I see Arya Stark laugh like that, it may be the last night Gendry Baratheon kisses his wife and thanks the Gods how lucky he is, it may be the last night I stare longingly at Jon Snow._

She shook her head and cleared her thoughts.

_We survived wights and White Walkers, we survived slavery, the loss of our parents and our loved ones, loss of our homes, of our children. And we are here all in this tent because we will survive tomorrow too, and the life we will take is Cersei Lannister’s._

She did not notice Jon sitting down next to her, a cup in each hand.

“I got you some wine, know you don’t like ale.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” She teased, a smile taking over her face.

“You keep saying that recently, I thought I bent the bloody knee.”

She sighed and took a sip, “The North is yours Jon, once all these wars are over I’ll barely be able to manage five let alone seven. I value you as an ally and I trust we will keep good conduct once I sit on the Iron Throne.”

“Aye, we will,” he assured her, swigging the rest of the ale from his cup, “This does taste like horse piss, what are we Northerners thinking?”

She laughed at his crassness and he smiled at her.

“Your sister and your good brother seem rather cosy.” She noted, tipping her head in the direction of Arya who was laying on Gendry, snuggling against his chest as they talked to one another.

“They’ve been inseparable ever since the Kingslayer brought her back.” Jon answered, looking at the two.

“Where is Jaime Lannister?”

“He went to kill Cersei, well that’s what Arya told me.”

“He will die.”

“Most likely but not at Cersei’s hand.”

“Do you think he still loves her?” Daenerys asked, not looking at him.

“Maybe deep down but not in the way he did.”

“He has his eye on Brienne of Tarth and she does as well.” She looked over the giantess who almost looked uncomfortably without her armour.

“He didn’t seem scared of death when I met him in King’s Landing.”

“That’s because he’s accepted his fate.”

Jon seemed to get that and put his now empty cup down.

“I think we need to talk about us.” He told her, and she met his eyes, cold grey like steel.

“What is there to talk about?” she whispered.

“Our relation to one another.”

Daenerys felt like she had been stabbed in the chest, her heart starting to bloom with pain.

“Does it… Disturb you?” Jon queried, his eyes were unsure.

“I wouldn’t say it doesn’t but… The concept of incest is not foreign to me, my mother and father were brother and sister. If my brother Viserys hadn’t sold me to Khal Drogo, I would have been his wife as well. But you…”

“I am your brother’s son.” Jon looked down at his feet.

“I didn’t know Rhaegar, you didn’t know him either.”

“I’m sorry Dany.”

She winced but not at the usage of her name in the way her brother used to but at the resignation in his voice.

“I cannot help but love you Jon Snow.”

He turned his head at that and smiled.

“You’re a sweet woman Daenerys. Kind and strong, a lot more than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Thank you,” she blinked and forced away her tears, “I understand.”

“Know that we will family to the end, us Starks have a pack, you can ask Arya about it. But I’m pretty sure that she’d agree that you’re in ours.”

Her heart warmed a little.

“Thank you, Jon.”

 

 

 

 

She allowed herself to cry a little once she left the tent and made her way to bed, the moon high up in the sky. But once the salt had dried around her eyes she did not feel anything, not sadness, not grief. Jon had called her family, more than what their blood limited them to. She knew she could not have what Arya and Gendry had, not with Jon. Even if he did feel the same way as her, they could not have married, Jon would have never gone South. He belonged in the North.

She passed what she could tell was the Baratheon couple’s tent judging by the noises that were coming out of it. She was forced to walk a little faster when Arya moaned her husband’s name louder than she could have thought possible and only thanked the Gods that the girl had no shame. Gendry on the other hand blushed like a maid and cared a lot more about what other men said about them. Daenerys resisted the laugh that was bubbling in her throat and moved to her tent to where Missandei was missing.

 _Most likely keeping Grey Worm’s bed warm,_ she thought to herself.

She was grateful for that, she needed some time alone.

She walked to her cot and undid her intricate braids, feeling her silver hair crinkled as it lay over her shoulders. She did feel safe, but her bed was cold and so was her heart, she had left men across the sea. She had not even spared Daario Naharis a thought. She wanted someone who would be there for her, who would challenge her but never threaten her position. Maybe she would have to take Yara Greyjoy up on her implied proposition. Daenerys had little heart for men these days.

Instead, when her head hit the pillow, her mind went blank and any thoughts of lovers or wars dissipated as she followed her dreams to sleep, her lids fluttering closed.

_Tomorrow I will get what I have been fighting for all these years, brother. You could have never survived what I have, never gained the love of your people as I have, never fight against the undead. You’d be like Cersei, selfish and dishonourable. You’d be a terrible king, a coward. You’d hide behind your people and your finery.  I thank the Gods that Drogo gave you the golden crown you deserved._

 

 

And with that the night went on, closer to the battle that they would wage against Cersei Lannister.


	40. Gendry X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gendry reflects on the morning before the siege of king's landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this little filler before the next battle! i've been swamped with work so getting this chapter out was a struggle (I had it written but i was constantly editing and forgetting about it). on the plus side, I just got a job so yay?? 
> 
> I would like to thank all the beautiful people who have continued to comment, send me kudos and feedback on how to make my writing better, it has been a tough year for me but your comments and praise make me so happy so I have the motivation to write each new chapter. (I hope you guys know who you are because you mean the world to me!!!) 
> 
> lots of love and until next time, 
> 
> -the land of nothing

**Gendry**

 

 

For those fleeting moments he shared with Arya in their tent, he felt time stand still.

Arya and he retired under the sheets after several bouts of going at each other crazily but underneath their lust driven antics, he knew it was more due to that irking feeling that their lives were at stake tomorrow. Gendry hadn’t missed war, he hadn’t missed watching that stone mask sweep over his wife’s features, not the tents that offered limited privacy or the collective fear of their armies which hung over the camp like a rainy day. He was about done with anything to do with wars and all he wanted to do was stay in this bed for an age with Arya lying on his chest, her soft breathing in time with his. He loved the way her leg draped so naturally over his front with her palm resting on his chest that rose and fell. His hand stayed curled around her waist almost protectively. He knew that he couldn’t protect her, he didn’t _need_ to. In all instances when her life was in danger, his woman managed to get out of it one way or another, denying death since she was a child, running away from it like they had run from the Lannisters. Thinking of their days in the Riverlands made him burn with nostalgia and it made him realise how strong his she-wolf had always been. Independent, fierce, intelligent and wild like the wolf blood that ran through her veins. That had been before she grew up into who she was now; a woman grown of nine and ten with a preference for a certain kind of Needle. Training their men, she was fearless and ruthless, fighting each sparring match like it was her last but here in this tent when it was them alone, he managed to strip her of more layers than just her clothes. Her grey eyes that always remained so calculating and _angry_ were soft in his presence and her body which was usually so tense became flaccid against him, her movements slow and affectionate. And he rejoiced that he was the only one to see her like this; _peaceful._ She made him forget about the wars when he looked down at her like she had strung up every star one by one in his galaxy. Because he knew her under that cold demeanour and quick temper, she got scared and worried. She had a pack and she was alpha.

“Why are you looking at me like that husband?” he heard say her say groggily, the light of a single candle created delightful shadows up the curve of her waist.

“Am I not allowed to look at you wife?” he teased, pinching her side until she squealed in protest.

She moved over him to straddle his lap as he sat up against the backboard of their bed and their foreheads met. Gendry closed his eyes and let himself be engulfed in the essence that was Arya Stark; his wife, his best friend for the many years he knew her, his first and his last love. He knew she’d punch him if he ever muttered something so corny out loud but sometimes after they made love, his very soul would be so heavy with the feeling of her that he couldn’t help but let his heart do the talking. He just wished they wouldn’t have to wake up in the nearing hours and watch her don the armour he made for her.

“You’re stupid if you’re thinking about dying Gendry.” She told him.

 “How do you know that’s what I’m thinking about?” he countered, cocking an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes.

“You get this stupid expression on your face…” she leant forward and pecked him on the lips, “I can read you like a book.”

“No secrets between us.” He told her.

Their promise.

Technically, he had broken that promise. He never had told her what happened with Melisandre when they took him away from her, but she’d known deep down inside. She probably had heard the men talking about it.

As if she knew exactly what he was thinking, she slipped down to his side and rested her head on his shoulder, entwinning their fingers.

“You’re thinking about that red bitch aren’t you.”

“Not in the way you’re implying.” He snorted.

He knew his love was a jealous creature.

“I know she hurt you Gendry. You never said it, but your eyes do sometimes.” She whispered, and he turned to dig his nose in her hair and kiss the crown of her hair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I know what the men say, and it is complete bullshit. What do they not get? She _abused_ you, it was against your will.”

“Not at the start Arya, I won’t lie about that.”

 “I don’t mean… Gendry. Was it in your will to be strapped to a bed and…”

“Arya, enough!” he stopped her with his voice and every strand of energy in the room stilled.

He kicked himself for yelling at her as her eyes widened.

“All I’m saying is that she did abuse you and just because she was a beautiful woman doesn’t mean you had to enjoy it.”

Gendry thought back to when they were trudging through the snow beyond the Wall and having the Hound and the Brotherhood ask him why he was complaining about such a thing.

“I know Arya and I’m thankful that you care so much,” he softened, kissing her temple, “But I don’t want to talk about her, I don’t want to talk about any other man or woman while you’re in our bed, naked for that matter.”

She looked up at him and smiled so sweetly he forgot how to breathe for a few moments.

“You’ve turned me soft Baratheon.” She whined, pinching his nose.

He grinned.

“Only with me wolf girl,” he pressed his lips against hers, “But just because you’re married to Lord Baratheon doesn’t mean the men aren’t scared of you anymore.”

She gave a little gasp and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I am not scary.”

“Darling…”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Arya…” he started again, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just because I don’t find you intimidating doesn’t mean that others don’t. Sometimes you’re a little…”

“A little what?”

“We don’t need to fight, not tonight love,” he prayed for patience while she looked at him like she was about to explode, “You’ve been training the men ruthlessly. I love that about you, Gods it’s one of the reasons I’m utterly and stupidly in love with you but Southern men aren’t used to strong women.”

She snorted and urged him to lie down again so she could rest on his side, “Then they better get used to it. I may be married to a Southerner but I’m still a Northerner, blood and everything else.”

He let out a hearty laugh.

“And it’s not like I should care about them anyway,” she leant up and looked him in the eye, “You’re the only man I need to ‘please’”

“Well thank the Gods for that!” he scoffed, and she rolled her eyes.

 “Have I ever told how stupid you are?”

“Many times, m’lady but because I am so _stupid_ , it doesn’t go through here.” He tapped his temple.

She smiled and shook her head in disbelief, nestling closer to his side.

“We’re not going to die, you hear me? I refuse it.” She ordered.

“Love…”

“No, the Gods kept us alive this long, so it has to be for a reason. We survived the Lannisters and bloody dead people and White Walkers!” She cut him off stubbornly, looking up to him with defiance shining in her grey eyes.

“Alright, no dying,” he chuckled, smoothing a hand down her hair, “Still doesn’t mean I like this all.”

“I know you don’t, my gentle bull.” She kissed his chest.

“I never was a soldier.” He huffed grumpily, “Even Davos said so.”

“No, you’re a smith, and my husband who is my best friend in the entire world.” She smiled.

He leant over and kissed her so fiercely that the world around him disappeared for a few moments.

_I love this woman more than life itself._

They sat in silence for a moment longer, basking in one another’s warmth while the candle reduced to embers. His mind began to wander, thinking of all the injustices they had faced, all the years he lived guiltily thinking she was dead all because of him. Without seeing her as a woman grown he always thought of Arry, the little dirty girl who threatened to fight men three times her size who had a pack that she vowed to protect. When he met her that day in Winterfell for the first time in six years, it was only then when he realised how truly beautiful she was for she was no longer a child. He had been the happiest man in Westeros when she had looked him in the eye while they were fighting and told him she loved him, the happiest man when she ran into his room after he woke up from the injury he sustained from the White Walker and the happiest man when she walked down the aisle in the Godswood, on her brother’s arm in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. But to him, she would always be his Arya, a woman who cared about her family more than anything in the world and was completely capable of love, loving him even though the world had tried to take her name from herself. That caused him to think about the babe that used to grow inside her, _their_ babe and the thought made him shiver in discomfort. He looked at her flat belly now and willed himself to not rub his hands over it like he had when they were both so overjoyed by the news. It prompted a question he had been dying to ask her ever since he got her back after her stint in King’s Landing.

“If you were still carrying our babe, would you fight this war?” he said as quietly as he could muster, feeling her heartbeat become erratic.

She looked up at him serious for a moment.

“Would you?”

He shook his head.

“Then no, we would have gone to Storm’s End and rallied the Stormlords.” She answered, looking away.

“You wouldn’t have liked it.”

“I would have prioritised keeping our family safe over fighting.” She stated, finding his hand and linking her fingers through each one of his, “I would always protect my pack, always. You’re my family Gendry, always have been, always will be.”

He lay back and held her against him, praying to any God listening that he was the most grateful man in existence.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 The morning saw the camp in absolute chaos; people were shouting over each other the sound of clanking armour and weapons. Arya was already awake, staring at the ceiling of their tent and he wondered if his she-wolf had even slept. Davos told him that he could never sleep before a battle and the old smuggler had been in many, but his Arya didn’t talk of such things. He reached for her hand and she jumped out of her skin, turning to him worriedly but her face of concern quickly transitioned into a sweet smile as she curled into his arms again. He kissed the crown of her head and held her tight against his body like she was going to disappear.

“Gendry,” she whispered, her voice muffled by his skin, “I can’t breathe.”

He loosened his hold and looked down at her, cupping her face, “Sorry love.”

She leant up and pressed her lips to his.

“Please don’t die today.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

“Promise me,” She insisted, and he felt her voice vibrate through their connected skin, “Promise me Gendry Baratheon that you will come back to me.” 

“I promise Arya Stark.”

She sighed too and buried her head into the crook of his neck, kissing him gently.

“You keep that up and we’re never going to leave this tent.” He murmured, trying not to moan.

“Doesn’t sound like you would mind that.” She whispered, continuing to kiss his jaw.

“You know I wouldn’t,” he agreed, leaning up, “But we have to.”

He looked at her, decency only covered by the furs of their bedding and her lips pink and raw from the continuous onslaught of his affection. She huffed and got up, bare naked and crossed their tent to where their armour and clothing was kept. His cock throbbed painfully at the sight of her, like it usually did when she was undressed in the presence of only him. She pulled on her thick breeches and a tight-fitting tunic, slipping on a leather jerkin and a sleeve of chainmail to go under her armour. She turned around and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

He groaned and got up too, brushing her aside to put some clothes on, fixing a leather jerkin around his torso until he saw Arya holding the bull helm he made for himself back in Winterfell and smiling to herself. He had made a new one when he lost the other but this one had been a lot more intricate; shards of dragon-glass spiralled up the horns almost like a lightning bolt.

 “This is how it all started,” she said under her breath, stroking the steel tentatively, “Sometimes I forget what an amazing smith you are.”

She looked up and he smiled down at her. Sometimes nothing was better than hearing her words of praise towards his work. It filled him with a sort of pride he could not put a label on.

_I am proud to be loved by her, to mean so much to her._

“Your father saw the first one I made, I told him it wasn’t for sale,” He chuckled, and she grinned softly, “What would he say now? Seeing a bastard armourer’s apprentice with his daughter, he’d bloody murder me.”

“He would have loved you.” She told him, looking down at the helm again, “You are nothing like your father, and he would have seen how much I love you.”

“I know that, Arry.” He said.

She put the helm down, her mouth set in a hard-straight line.

“You want some help with your armour?” he gestured, and her brows furrowed as if remembering that they were dressing for war.

She didn’t speak but instead managed to nod her head, turning away from him so he could slip the malleable metal armour over her frame. When he made her this piece the only thing he could think about was putting his soul into it to keep her safe, to remind her as much as he could never protect her he would always remain a piece of her heart. He tied the straps at the side and watched her shake the metal into place to feel more comfortable. She walked over to his armour and looked at it almost willing for it to disappear.

“It feels perfect.” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else but he knew she expected an answer.

“Of course, it is, I know you,” he replied, and she made him hold his arms up to help slip the armour over his chainmail, “It’s too heavy love, let me do it.”

“Shut up,” She snapped, struggling to pull it down but she did it stubbornly anyway, “I’m not a simpering lady who can’t help her husband put his amour on.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to face her, “No, you’re not. I never said that.”

She ignored him and lifted the armour down until it was tight around his torso and she pulled the straps hard.

His brows furrowed at her bad mood, unable to grasp why she was so snappy.

“Arya what’s wrong?” he asked her as she moved to fasten her sword belt around her hips, “Do you not want to fight? Are you afraid?”

Her head whipped around at the mention of fear, her eyes dancing with rage.

“I’m not _afraid._ ” She hissed through her teeth.

“Then why are you getting like this?”

“Like what Gendry?” she tested him, glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Cold, distant. Whatever words you fancy folk use.”

“Okay, first,” she stepped up to him, “You are a fancy lord Gendry, you’re Lord Baratheon now. And secondly, this _mood_ or whatever you’re calling it, is so I don’t die, so I can protect myself. How do you think I escaped the Faceless Men? By smiling and blowing kisses?”

He went silent, not letting her have that fight he could see she was yearning for, that excuse to bite someone’s head off.

 _Better some soldier who doesn’t know her than me,_ he thought to himself, annoyed.

He moved away to his own weapon’s belt, busying himself by running his hands up and down the pommel of his war hammer.

“You don’t want to say anything else?” she questioned, not moving.

“No,” he responded, turning around to look at her, “You made a completely valid point love, I’m sorry.”

She stared at him in confusion and he kept the smirk he could feel forming on his lips repressed. He may have given in, but he won this one.

“I’m going to find Jon.” She stated simply, still standing rooted to the spot.

“Okay.” He nodded.

She hesitated and averted her eyes until she let out a little huff, her eyes tinted with something Gendry couldn’t quite name. Then she walked up to him, bent down and kissed him on the cheek before walking swiftly out their tent.

He smiled, touching the place where she pressed her lips against the top of his beard.

_Typical Arya._

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

While he walked, he clinked in his armour, hammer strapped to his back and a sword at his waist. Arya had told him if worse came to worst, it would be more likely to find a sword lying around if he was too losing his hammer amid the fighting. He could never argue with his wife’s logic on that front; she would never say it, but he knew she was worried about him as much as he was about her.

 _She has always been more likely to keep me warm and safe, and guard me with her sword,_ he chuckled to himself.

He found Arya in the main tent with Jon and some of the others, the air buzzing with anticipation. He left his love alone with her brother as he discussed something with her and found Davos, standing idly with his hands held in front of him like he was waiting for a command. At Gendry’s presence, the greying Hand looked up at and greeted him with a warm smile.

“You look quite fitting Lord Baratheon.” He mocked, and Gendry snorted.

“If one more person calls me that.” He warned but the old smuggler just laughed.

“You can probably sympathise with your wife then,” he chuckled, slapping his armour, “She seems a bit tense this morn, don’t you think? Or is that just me.”

“She gets like this before a fight.”

“It’s good you know that son. Some men take years or even lifetimes to find out what’s going on in their missuses’ heads.”

 _Most men don’t care,_ he thought, catching his wife’s eye from across the table.

And most men didn’t have Arya Stark as a wife.

“But she’s fine? No fighting I hope?” Davos questioned.

He ripped his gaze away and snorted again, “Is there ever a time we’re not bickering?”

“You know what I mean Gendry.”

He let out a deep breath, hoping that Arya could not hear the conversation.

“We didn’t fight, but I can tell she’s itching for one,” he started, “I believe she’s scared but she would never admit that aloud even if her life was on the line.”

“Stubborn. Sounds like someone I know.”

Gendry rolled his eyes.

He felt a presence walking up to him and saw Jon. Arya was nowhere to be seen.

“Gendry? Could we talk?” the Northern king asked tentatively.

He nodded and looked back at Davos who gave him a small smile. They walked out of the tent to where Arya was talking to Brienne about her armour until they caught eyes again. He reached out and gave her hand a little squeeze.

“We’ll just be a few minutes.” 

She opened her mouth to say something but instead she shut it and nodded.

He turned and followed Jon down a path through the tents, passing people who were buckling into their armour and handing around weapons everywhere they looked.

“What did you need to talk about?”

“Arya obviously.”

Gendry rolled his eyes.

_Of course._

“What about her?”

“I’m thinking of getting her into King’s Landing with the Unsullied.”

“You want her to command the Unsullied?” Gendry asked, his eyebrows raising.

He was not surprised, prouder that Jon had come up with such a plan for her. She was completely capable.

“Arya has a notable Braavosi fighting style, and it will be a good match to the Golden company. I was talking to Grey Worm and Daenerys.”

“Daenerys suggested this?” Gendry questioned.

“Daenerys agreed, but it was Grey Worm who said it was a good idea. They sparred back in Winterfell and he said she was a good fight.”

“You’re stating the obvious.”

Jon chuckled and laid a hand on the pommel of Longclaw.

“I was asking you because she’s your wife and her being in King’s Landing would mean that you’d be separated until we breach the walls.”

Gendry stopped and thought about it; on one hand he wouldn’t be distracted by her amidst the fighting but then if either of them were to fall in battle…

“It’s a good idea,” Gendry concluded, feeling confident in Arya’s abilities as a swordswoman, “She would have jumped at the chance.”

Jon shook his head, “She hasn’t given me an answer, she wanted to talk to you first. She said it was your decision too.”

“I’ll talk to her.” Gendry promised as they turned around to head back to the tent where Arya was waiting patiently.

She took a step forward and let out her hand for him to take and he smiled at her nervousness.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

“What do I think? I think it’s a bloody honour love,” he said proudly, but she did not seem so amused, “You should do it, you’re the only one capable for such a position.”

“This isn’t about honour, this is about getting through it, so we can go home and live in peace.” She stated blankly.

“Home in Winterfell?” he asked, a little confused.

“In Storm’s End you big lumbering idiot.” She muttered and went back to her sulking.

“You’re worried about me.” He noted, grinning.

“Of course, I’m worried about you, stupid.” She snapped, looking annoyed as if his comment was offensive.

He just chuckled and brought her into his arms, resting his chin on the crown on her head.

“I should be there with you.” She grumbled, looking uncomfortable as their armour clinked together.

“We will be together in King’s Landing when we breach the walls.” He reminded her.

“Still,” she whined, “You really believe I’ll be a good commander?”

“Arya, you’ll be a fantastic general.” He smiled at her.

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

“Alright then, tell Jon I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have two more chapters plus an epilogue planned :(


End file.
